


Trill: Disjoined

by Worffan101



Series: Rachel Connor's story [9]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek Online
Genre: (allegorical) transphobia, Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Bigotry & Prejudice, Bisexual Female Character, Dorks in Love, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Lashing out in (emotional) pain, Lesbian Character, Rachel has unresolved issues, The protagonist is a mess, Trill Culture (Star Trek), Trill are basically the White People of space, Weird Biology, Women in (emotional) pain, she's not a bad person but she's not in the right here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worffan101/pseuds/Worffan101
Summary: Ensign Eleana Valen, celebrating her girlfriend Rachel Connor's victory over the infamous terrorist Kerim Morag, is summoned back to her homeworld of Trill when she hears that her mother has been injured.  But when she arrives, things get a lot more complicated...Gifted to my buddy CaekDaemon from AH.com, because we're all suffering under COVID quarantine and I figured he'd enjoy a story.  :)
Relationships: Background OFC/OFC, background OMC/OFC
Series: Rachel Connor's story [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1509527
Kudos: 3





	Trill: Disjoined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaekDaemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaekDaemon/gifts).



> FYI, this is basically "Midwest mom's son tells her she's her daughter" but with the specifics of the relationship swapped around and a few allegories added on, so the protagonist is going to be a bit of a mess through this. (There's also elements of "smug rich white people being performatively tolerant in socially-valued ways but also incredibly intolerant of those without social capital" because I live in the USA and this country has too many people like that) If that's a potential trigger, this may not be the story for you. 
> 
> Stuff that's important to know:   
> \--Bluegill(s): Species of malevolent alien parasites, suspected to be associated in some way with the Trill symbiotes, that have repeatedly attacked the Federation (first in 2364, and later in 2410 and 2411 during the Delta Rising and Iconian Wars). Negotiations have been unsuccessful and their motivations remain unclear.   
> \--Gaul: Deceased charismatic dictator of the Vaadwaur Supremacy, launched a genocidal campaign of revenge and ethnic cleansing against the former enemies of his species with covert Iconian aid, before being killed by a rebellious subordinate following his defeat by the Federation and its allies.   
> \--Reman: Endonym "Havrannsu"; a telepathic Vulcanoid species adapted to the ice world Remus/ch'Havran. Formerly a slave caste within the Romulan Star Empire.   
> \--Kerim Morag: Recently deceased terrorist (see "Live, not Survive") and leader of a Cardassian extremist faction, the "Cardassian Third Empire" or "True Way". Self-declared "Father-Leader of the Cardassian Race".   
> \--Andorian: Blue-skinned, white-haired alien species with antennae. Evolved on the ice-moon of a gas giant.   
> \--Kreetassian: Insular and typically protocol-obsessed species within the Federation. They consider food consumption to be taboo and an intimate, quasi-sexual act.   
> \--Re-association: Term for a Joined Trill attempting to re-forge relationships of the previous host, esp. romantic relationships and/or those with other Joined Trill. Considered taboo and punishable by permanent exile from Trill (effectively dooming the symbiote to eventual death) until landmark legal action somewhere around 2400. The taboo was widely considered discriminatory and unfair by other Federation species.   
> \--Caves of Mak'Kala: Cave complex on Trill, home to the pools where Trill symbiotes are kept to breed and interact when not Joined. 
> 
> Special thanks to my buddy StarSword for beta-reading and having his character Birail Riyannis guest-star! :)

#  Trill: Disjoined

_ I’m caught here in this vacuum _ _   
_ _ I’m falling from a sunless sky _ _   
_ _ I’ll rid myself of value _ _   
_ _ And leave this emptiness behind _

_ So I run before it’s over _ _   
_ _ I run but still never leave it seems _ _   
_ _ Run but not getting closer _ _   
_ _ I run to get away from this dream _

_ I have been watching you from a distance _ _   
_ _ I have been monitoring you from cloudless skies _ _   
_ _ I’ve been calling your name just to ease your resistance _ _   
_ _ But nothing seems to shift your darkened sky _

_ Run before it’s over _ _   
_ _ Run but still never leave it seems _ _   
_ _ Run but not getting closer _ _   
_ _ I run to get away from this dream _

_ I’m in orbit _ _   
_ _ Stars exploding when I call your name _ _   
_ _ Here’s too dark and lonely _ _   
_ _ You’re my compass _ _   
_ _ My only reason to stay sane _

_ Run before it’s over _ _   
_ _ Run but still never leave it seems _ __   
_ Run but not getting closer _ _   
_ __ I run to get away from this dream

_ Run but not getting closer _

_ Run but still never leave it seems _

_ Run! _

—  [ “In Orbit” by Evergrey feat. Floor Jansen ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKNg2dcO94k)

_ Culat, Cardassia Prime. March 20th, 2412 _ . 

“Cardies sure know how to throw a party,” Tanya Ivanashvilli observes. She’s not wrong; the reception hall’s big enough to fit a few hundred Cardassian dignitaries and thousands of Cardassian and Federation crewmen with ease, the music’s playing a rather nice slow-waltz, and the drinks are flowing freely to match the hors d'oeuvres. “‘Course, I usually prefer classic metal, but still. Good taste.” 

“Yeah, good music.” I scan the room; there she is. My girlfriend, Lieutenant Rachel Connor, a burly Human dressed to the nines in full whites, is over by the guests of honor. “Excuse me, I’ve got a dance I need to pick up.” 

“Go get her,” my roommate chuckles. “Did you see Kerensky from Engineering?” 

“I think he was over by the bar?” 

“Great, thanks.” 

We go our separate ways, and I slip through the crowd, hoping that my dress whites don’t clash too much with my skin—one of my drill instructors cracked that the point of dress uniforms is to make women as unattractive as possible. Rachel’s talking with a leggy Orion woman and a stocky Human man who looks like he’s about to cry, both in their own dress uniforms. The latter, Ensign Huang, is one of the guests of honor; Castellan Lang, leader of the Detapa Council, just named Huang and a middle-aged Cardassian legate called Kerani Ocett as Heroes of the Cardassian Union, complete with the little ankh medal that symbolizes the Cardassians’ highest honor. Ocett led the combined fleet on the operation a couple of weeks ago that ended with Huang killing Kerim Morag, the insane terrorist leader who led the now-defunct True Way insurgency against the Detapa Council government; it looks like the Cardassians are milking the moment for all the propaganda benefit they can get. 

“…and stop crying, damn it, Huang. You  _ earned _ this, you took down that sonofabitch, you know?” 

“Yes, sir,” Huang says, sniffling. “Never been the State hero before, sir.” 

“Yeah, well, you saved Kallio’s skinny ass, you took out the most wanted fucker in Cardassian space, so if the Cardies want to use you for PR, I don’t see any other officers who killed the Butcher of Selmak hanging around, so suck it up, yeah?” Rachel pulls Huang into a hug, patting him roughly on the back. “You’re a hero, kid. Let yourself enjoy it.” 

“Yessir. I’ll try, sir.” 

“Fuck me, kid, drop the yes, sir, no sir, three bags full, sir bullcrap and have fun for  _ yourself _ . And  _ that’s _ an order.” 

Huang manages a chuckle. “As you say, sir.” 

“I damn well do. Dantius, make sure he loosens up a bit, yeah? Call it exposure therapy.” 

“Yes,  _ sir _ ,” the Orion replies with a grin and a salute so crisp it practically crackles. Huang flushes deep red as Rachel pulls back, and I take the chance to tap my woman on the shoulder. 

“Wh—oh, hey, babe. You look great!” Her face splits into a warm smile as she sweeps me up into her arms. Hands that can tear bulkheads apart clasp gently over my shoulder and bicep, and my own arms snake partway around her as we step aside so that somebody else can congratulate Huang. 

“Pot, meet kettle, beautiful,” I chuckle. She goes an interesting shade of lavender for a brief moment before the chromatophores in her skin flow back to normal. 

“Hey, I’m just lucky enough to have the hottest girl in the room on my arm to make me look better by association,” she counters. Sef, she’s so charming without even trying. Arms that can punch through tritanium tug me in and we slip smoothly to the dance floor during a brief lull between songs. “May I have this dance, milady?” 

“Of course,” I tell her, a big dopey grin no doubt on my face as I look down into her dark eyes. “How do you like the party?” 

“Well, I raided the snacks until the waiters started giving me dirty looks, and I can say with confidence that the food’s damn good.” We step into a nook near the east wall, moving rhythmically in each other’s arms as the music continues. Properly, it’s some kind of Cardassian celebratory march meant to glorify the honored dead and the heroic living with a strictly choreographed symbolic cooperative dance, but it’s close enough to a waltz, and Rachel’s unnaturally fast metabolism makes her warm hands soothing on my arm muscles, and we ended the True Way insurgency just the other day, so I’m sure the Detapa Council won’t mind. “Did you do something with your hair?” 

“No, why?” 

“Just looks even lovelier than usual today. But then, I’m biased.” 

“Oh?” I chuckle. 

“Yeah, every time I look at you, I’m like,  _ damn _ . Floored every time.” 

“You’re such a sap,” I giggle, but pull her flush against me anyway. 

“Guilty as charged,” she rasps. I lean in, and we kiss, long, slow, tranquil. She tastes of spices--must be the hors d'oeuvres. Rachel’s augmented metabolism means she needs to eat four times what a normal Human does, just to stay alive, and with the amount of working out she does for her job, she can’t go more than an hour or so without grabbing at least a snack. 

“So, did you hear the rumors about the Tzenkethi?” 

“Actually, I got the briefing from Intel this morning. Can’t say much, but the non-classified bit is that this isn’t the first time they’ve fucked with us these past few years. Last March they were backing Covandu ethnic-supremacists on Cova Banda, we think that dustup with Talarian revanchists in 2407 was them, and now Morag.” 

“Let me guess, they’re going to send you against them?” 

“Classified,” she replies with a little grin. 

“Of course it is.” We rock back and forth in each other’s arms. “You’ll remember to stay safe, yes?” 

“I’ll do my best, babe.” She nuzzles my neck with the bridge of her nose. “New perfume?” 

“My parents sent it, they were on vacation.” 

“Well, it smells great. Not like that other stuff.” Most perfume wreaks havoc on Rachel’s hypersensitive nostrils, it’s been a pain in the neck finding scents that don’t overwhelm her. 

“Good, I’ll order more. Work went well today?” 

“Yeah, we had a short day. Only one sim, ‘cause we had to shower for this party and all. Yours?” 

“Eh, the usual. Finished off the chlorobicrobe project, so now we’re trying to grow Diomedian scarlet moss under different radiation levels. The plan is to determine how the gametophyte responds to different types of star and different simulated orbits.” 

“Sounds neat. What’s the point of it?” 

I shrug. “Broadening our knowledge, why else?” 

“Fair enough,” she chuckles. Then my combadge chirps. 

“Bajor _ to Ensign Valen _ .” 

I mutter a curse and step back, pressing the badge. “Ensign Valen here.” 

“ _ You’ve got an urgent holo-call coming in from Trill. Someone called Kiatek, saying it’s an emergency _ ?” 

“Sef, that’s my father—I’ll be right there.” I offer Rachel an apologetic grimace. “Rain check on this dance?” 

“Anything you need,” she promises me with her easy grin. “Take care of your family issue, I’ll help herd cats or something.” 

“Thank you so much. I’ll be right back as soon as I can.” 

***

I slip into a Cardassian comms booth, synch my communicator and my ident card, and wait about half a minute for connection. Even with subspace radio and relay boosters allowing superluminal comms, you have to expect message lags over longer distances. 

My father’s face, grainy over the Cardassian holoprojector, swims into view. “ _ Eleana? _ ” He always speaks Havran with me, the so-called “Reman” creole of Middle Vulcan and Rihan, and I answer him in the same. 

“Hey, Dad, what’s the matter? Weren’t you and Mom on vacation?” 

“ _ We had to cut that short—Eleana, I can’t tell you much right now, but you need to come home, your mother’s… she’s been hurt. _ ” 

“What? What happened?” Back in the main hall, a Cardassian woman says something over loudspeakers, something about glorifying the heroic deeds of the champions of the Cardassian people. “Is she stable? Did you take her to the central hospital or the one in Bra’tac prefecture?” 

“ _ She’s at home recovering—I’m sorry,  _ paenhe _ , I can’t say much here, the planetary government’s monitoring my call. But I’m having a hard time handling this, and you deserve to know, so please, come home? _ ” 

“Of course. I have some leave saved up anyway.” I pull out a PADD and send a quick leave request to my CO. “I should be on a passenger liner by morning.” 

“ _ Good. And, Eleana… be gentle with her, please? It’s a tough time, for her especially. _ ” 

“I understand. You can’t say what happened?” 

“ _ It’s… complicated. Just, please, hurry. _ ” 

“I will. Love you, Dad.” 

“ _ Love you too,  _ paenhe.” 

I leave the booth and hurry back to the main hall. Rachel’s leaning against a wall just inside, looking bored, but perks up when she sees me. “Hey, babe—”

“I’m so sorry,” I cut her off. “My mother’s been hurt, I need to head back to Trill; I know we were going to--” 

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, I understand.” She pulls me into a hug. “Have a safe trip, alright? I’d be with you, but we’re shipping out to the Talarian successor states tomorrow, I need to be there to prep assault plans in case the Tzenkethi escalate after I killed one of their top commandos.” 

“I love you so much,” I tell her, pulling back to gaze into her dark eyes. She flushes a mottled purple (it’s pretty, even though it’ll never stop being a little weird) and turns aside. 

“Ah, I should be there, but you know, job bullshit...call me, though? Maybe not every day, I’ve got a lot of work and training sims on my plate, but every other?” 

“Of course. I promise.” We kiss, all too briefly, then she’s seeing me off to the transporter with a pat on the back. 

Swimmer’s tears, I’m so lucky to have her. 

***

_ Teal’c, Lekarna, Federated States of Trill (Trillius Prime, United Federation of Planets). March 25th, 2412 _

I take the shuttle down (the local government has transporter dampeners up over half the town for some reason), which only gives me extra time to worry. My mother and I aren’t exactly joined at the hip, but we’ve always been on good terms, and at her age, to have an accident…

I force myself to not think about it. I’m clenching the handle of my travel bag so hard that my nails are digging into my palm on the other side. All I’m going to do with this is freak myself out. 

All the same, I’m out the rear hatch almost as soon as the shuttle touches down. 

Two Trill guards, federal police by the looks of them, raise phasers at me as I approach the gate to my parents’ cottage. “Halt!” one calls out. 

“I’m here to see my mother!” I call back, pulling up at the gate. 

“Identification, now!” 

Can’t they see my Fleet uniform? I fumble in my bag for my credential. “Ensign Eleana Valen, Starfleet Science! I'm in Life Sciences on USS  _ Bajor.” _

“Check her,” the talker orders the other guard, who looks something up in his PDA. 

“No need!” rasps another voice as the door opens. My father steps out, and I pick up the turmoil inside him from over here. He’s putting on a brave face, but there’ve never been lies between us when it comes to emotion. “Keep your damn phasers away from my daughter, will you?” 

“Sir, we’re just trying to ensure the safety of…” 

“Well, she’s safe, alright? My Elements-damned daughter, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Happy?” 

The talkative guy sighs, but lowers his phaser and waves the other guy down. “Come on in,” he grumbles. 

“I’m sorry, he likes playing up the crotchety-Reman routine,” I tell the guard as I open the gate, then turn back to my father for a hug. “ _ Eneh, _ ” I say in my rusty Havran. I don’t use it much anymore except for endearments, but it’s like a hoverbike, you never  _ really _ forget. “It’s been too long.” The language is lilting, elegant as the ancient Vulcanoids who spoke its ancestral forms. (It also got me an easy language credit at the Academy, because it’s similar enough to High Rihan for me to bluff my way through the requirement. Score one for the immigrant dad!)

“Good to see you,  _ pænhe _ ,” he whisper-croaks in return, scarred lips splitting around his broken tusks in a warm smile. My father’s voice hasn’t worked quite properly ever since he was critically wounded in the Dominion War; he’s always said he traded his drill sergeant’s shout for the most wonderful woman in the galaxy, because he met Mother in the field hospital. “You’re going to have to tell your  _ ri’nanov  _ and me about this girlfriend of yours, you know?” 

I roll my eyes as he leads me inside. “She’s back to missing shipboard gossip? Thank Sef that she’s recovering so quickly, your call had me thinking she was on death’s door!” 

My father clears his throat, his momentary good humor evaporating to my empathic senses. “Ah. Well, it’s… you’ll see.” 

“Is she alright?” I kick off my shoes and leave my bag at the door. 

“She’s…” He licks his lips. “This is hers to tell. Not mine.” 

“Alright… is she rest—oh, who’s this?” A woman, a mind that seems vaguely familiar humming at the edge of my senses, sits at the dining room with her back to me, graying auburn hair up in a bun. 

She turns, my father sucking in a breath. And I freeze. 

The face that I see is Trill, older, one that I’ve known for decades. But the way she holds herself, the  _ ancient _ feeling of her mind…

“You’re not my mother,” I whisper in Standard Trill. I regret it instantly, feeling the stab of hurt from the Joined woman at the table and my father at my side. 

“ _ Zhei _ am,” she says, rising, using the Standard Trill pronoun for the host-self. “Eleana, Nilani Valen is still a part of me-the-Joined, just as much as  _ jas _ , Odan.” The symbiote pronoun. Standard Trill—all Trill languages, really—has a lot of pronouns. My hands are shaking, mouth dry. “Please, I know that this is a shock, and it will be a strange transition—until a week ago,  _ jas _ was part of an investigator with  _ dezh _ , we are still adjusting to being  _ zhas _ .” 

I stumble back, shaking my head. Everything about her is wrong, from her mannerisms to her...their...mind/s. The worst part is that I can’t tell where the part of the Joined that is my mother ends and where the part that’s the symbiote begins. “You’re… you’re a whole different  _ person _ ,” I manage. “How… what…  _ how did this happen _ ?” 

“There was an… accident,” the Joined says, warm and soothing. But it’s not my mother, the lilting humor is buried under a cautious diplomat’s tone. I shake my head more vigorously, and I can  _ feel _ their pain, I can feel them try to soldier on. “Kinjer was badly wounded.  _ Zhei _ was the only Trill available,  _ zhas _ promise that  _ zhei _ consented and the whole of  _ zhas _ am satisfied…” 

“I just...I can’t,” I blurt out. “I, I need some space,” I turn, choking back a sob. 

“Eleana,” my father starts, but I’m already fleeing out the front door, vision blurring as I stumble past the guards and out the gate. 

I can feel my father’s and the Joined’s heartbreak and worry, and the guards’ scorn, until I’m a good ten meters out the gate. But I imagine the feeling for another half a mile. 

***

_ Estarel’s Netcafe, Teal’c. _

Rachel answers on the second ring. 

“ _ Hey, babe, _ ” my girlfriend says with a grin. She looks tired, the hologram from the extranet cafe’s call console showing a shininess that might be sweat on her skin. “ _ What’s up? Is your mom alright? _ ” 

“She’s…” I bite back a sob, and Rachel’s entire demeanor changes in an instant. “She’s  _ Joined _ .” 

“ _ Oh. That’s… good? _ ” 

“She’s not  _ her _ anymore. She’s somebody else. Part herself, and part… that thing. The symbiote.” 

“ _ Oh. It was a shock? _ ” Damn it, I’m putting too much on Rachel now, too… Rachel who was raised on Earth, in a Human-majority environment where they only understand Trill in the abstract. 

“She’s a whole different  _ person _ now. I… it’s like she died, Rachel. It’s like, I came home, and there was someone else sitting there in my mother’s skin. They have a different mind, I could feel it.” 

“ _ Shit. OK, do you need me to fly out there, babe? The Zenk situation’s tense but I can take a shuttle… _ ” 

“If you’re needed out on the border, you’re needed out there.” I sniffle, trying to wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “I just… my mother’s  _ gone _ and I didn’t even get to say good-bye.” 

“ _ OK. I don’t want to push, but… she’s still there, right, it’s more than just the symbiote? _ ” 

“She’s  _ gone _ .” I spit it out. “There’s  _ one _ person there and I can’t tell how much is her and how much is that  _ fucking _ worm!” I rub my eyes furiously with my sleeve, sniffing again. 

“ _ Right, I’m flying to Trill the moment I get permission. Honey, it’s going to be OK. Your mom’s still part of that person, we’ll figure this shit out. Just be strong for me, yeah? _ ” 

“I don’t know what to do,” I admit. “I don’t know what to think, she talks differently, she  _ feels _ different—” The comm cuts out, and the privacy curtain’s pulled back from the comm suite. “What the—”

“We don’t hold with your ilk here,” growls the cafe’s proprietor, a burly dark-haired Trill bubbling with disgust to match his scowl. “And count yourself lucky I’m not calling the state police to have you monitored!” 

“ _ My ilk _ ?” I bare my teeth. “And just what does  _ that _ mean?” 

“You neo-Purist bastards don’t have a place on this planet,” the proprietor snarls. “Get out.” 

“I was on a call—”

“We don’t serve anti-symbiote bigots here. Get out before I call the cops.” 

_ Fucking _ asshole! “ _ Fine _ . Your comms rig’s glitchy and low-res anyway.” I grab my field gray jacket and storm out, knocking him aside with my shoulder. Bastard thinks I’m a  _ bigot _ ?  _ Really _ ? 

Damn it,  _ now _ I remember all the reasons why I  _ hate  _ this planet. 

***

My father finds me sitting under a lida tree about half an hour later. 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says. “We wanted to tell you, but Leran Manev wouldn’t let us.” The planetary capital, down in Jaffa state. “Odan was part of some investigation, they’re a bit paranoid.” 

“I’m sorry I ran,” I manage as he sits next to me. I’ve got my back against the tree, arms around my knees. 

“It  _ was _ a shock.” 

“I’m an adult, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I was just...overwhelmed.” 

“I understand.” He leans back against the tree with a sigh. “ _ Arrin, _ ” he curses under his breath. “I’m having trouble dealing with this, too. She’s in there, I know it, I’ve been with her mind for more than four decades, but it’s… the symbiosis is a two-way street, like they say.” 

“Even if they take it out now, she’s still going to be a different person.” 

“… Yeah. That’s the hardest part.” 

I can’t do anything but nod. He sighs again, looking up at the wispy clouds coming off of the mountains. 

“She needs us, though. Odan, too, much as I don’t care to give that damn thing the time of day. We’re scared and confused, so is she. And I’m certain that Odan knows something that Leran Manev doesn’t want many people to know.” 

“I hate it,” I admit. “Odan I mean. I know there was some sort of accident and it probably wasn’t its fault, and it’s irrational and horrible, and every kid in basic school is  _ supposed _ to know better, but… it’s a whole different thing walking in and my mother doesn’t feel like herself to my mind. And I hate the symbiote for it, I hate the Swimmer for starting this whole symbiosis  _ thing _ , it’s all messed up.” 

“I don’t think basic schooling here is geared for telepathic or empathic children,” my father points out. “It’s good that you’re thinking this through, though. And, I truly am sorry that I wasn’t able to prepare you somehow. Leran Manev is like a hive that got kicked over about all this, they didn’t want you to know about the Joining.” 

“Of course, because that would make things  _ easier _ .” 

“Yeah, well, you know how some people are.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “Look. She needs you. Nilani does. I know it’s hard, I know she doesn’t  _ feel _ the same, but she needs you, she needs me, she needs us. It’s a hard transition, and there’s no way to make it work without support. So… can you promise me that you’ll give it an honest effort?” 

I grimace, but nod. “ _ Ie, eneh _ . For Mother’s sake.” 

“That’s all I ask.” He pulls me into a rough one-armed hug. “Hey. We’ll make it through. We always have.” 

I nod again, sniffling as the tears well up. “It’s just… she’s Odan now. And it hurts.” 

“I know,” my father rasps. “I know.” 

“Why didn’t they let you tell me?” 

“Some  _ hnæv hlain _ about domestic terrorists and a security threat. I think they’re just being lazy, but that’s just me.” He stands, offering me a hand up. “Come on, we’ll figure this out.” 

“Alright.” I take the hand and stand. “Still, you’d think they’d at least send a counsellor.” 

“Hmph. With what those  _ hlai’vnau _ goons they set up as guards were thinking about you… it won’t be  _ us _ who need a counsellor if they think that sort of thing again.” 

“ _ Eneh _ , don’t blame them, you know how people are.” 

“They aren’t like that on Tellar or Vulcan or Coridan, now, are they?” He should know, he’s  _ been _ to those places, at least on vacation. 

“…not usually,” I admit. Parochial self-righteousness is a Trill thing almost as much as it is a Human stereotype. “But sometimes, you know. Social capital being what it is.” 

“Hmph.” But he doesn’t push it further, though I feel his disgruntlement in my mind. 

***

The Joined wrings her hands nervously as I sit, gingerly, across the kitchen table. They… she…  _ hahr _ , fine, there’s no word in Standard English that really works and the Trill word for ‘third-person feminine Joined whole’ is the only simple way to describe the Joined…  _ Hahr _ still feels viscerally  _ wrong _ to my empathic senses. 

“So,” I rasp, after a minute. I use English, awkward as the guttural, rhythmically inconsistent alien tongue is, because dealing with Trill plural pronouns isn’t something I’m up to doing right now. “Symbiote ed in school didn’t really prepare me for this.” 

The Joined nods with a grimace. “So it seems.  _ Zhas _ am sorry that you had to find out like this, Eleana. If there’s anything  _ zhas _ can do, to help you adjust…”

“I don’t know if there  _ is _ anything,” I admit. 

“It’s the disconnect,” my father says, bringing over some sliced fresh fruit. “We see Nilani Valen and we feel someone else.” 

I nod, tears in my eyes. My throat feels closed off, my breath harsh. “I’m… You feel different. Think different. It’s weird and uncomfortable.” I shiver. “I’m sorry, Mom.” 

“ _ Zhei _ still love you,”  _ hahr  _ promises. “You are still  _ zhei _ ’s daughter, that will not change.  _ Zhas _ can try being more  _ zhei _ , if that helps?” 

“No, no, this is on me,” I rasp. “I should… I don’t know. I know  _ intellectually _ that you’re still there, sort of, but I  _ feel _ you on my mind and it’s completely different, I just… I just…” I shake my head with another grimace. “It’s not  _ right _ and it’s right there in my head every time I look at you and it’s just… uncomfortable.  _ Wrong _ .” 

“Your father has told  _ zhas  _ that he feels much the same way,”  _ hahr _ replies. “ _ Zhas _ …  _ zhas _ do not know if there is a way for  _ zhas _ to make this easier… can you feel anything of  _ zhei _ ?” 

I shrug helplessly. “I can’t tell. There’s no way to tell where one mind ends and the other begins, and all I get is the emotions. But you know that.” One good thing about English—the second person pronoun is ambiguous enough in gender and number that it can catch-all. 

I still don’t know how Rachel sounds so sweet with this ugly language, though. 

The Joined that looks like my mother tries, Sef bless  _ hahr _ , but every time  _ hahr  _ smiles… it’s wrong, the curl to it still there from muscle memory but the eyes crinkle differently, somehow seeming far older than  _ hahr _ was just last month when I called by holo, and  _ hahr’a _ vocal pattern is all off, slower, more serious, a shade deeper. 

And of course the  _ mind _ is there. Old and worried and so desperately, terribly distraught, layer upon layer of grief and worry and sadness piled up. It threatens to suck me in, drowning me in centuries of loss, generations of rejection… 

“Please,”  _ hahr _ begs. “ _ Zhas _ want to help, to help  _ both _ of you…” 

“I know!” I snap, harsher than I mean, clawing back to myself. “I know it’s  _ fucking _ hard, and we need help, and all of that! I didn’t ask for help from the fucking  _ worm _ in my mother’s pouch!” 

“ _ Eleana! _ ” my father hisses. 

_ Hahr _ rears back as if slapped, tears brimming in my mother’s eyes. “ _ Zhas _ apologize, it…  _ jas _ has experienced this before,  _ jas _ wanted to…”  _ Jas _ . The symbiote “I”. Bile surges in my throat. 

“ _ No _ ! You don’t get to talk! They put you in her like she didn’t  _ matter _ , and now we’re all supposed to be  _ honored _ !” I shove my chair back and stand. “I can’t… I need some time. More time. I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” 

“Please!” the Joined begs, also rising. “Not again,  _ zhas _ won’t let this happen again—”

I shake my head, sobbing, and flee. My father’s reproach and the symbiote’s centuries of regret follow me out. 

***

_ March 26th.  _

I’m out of the house, running an errand in town (I get dirty looks, because Trill are a bunch of self-centered asses obsessed with our social capital) when she comes up to me. 

“Eleana Valen?” 

I look up from a display of mehri fruit. The speaker’s an attractive Kreetassian woman with a hard-set frown and dark sunglasses, standing on a civilian-grade pair of chrome cybernetic legs. Her uniform’s crisp, the stripe matte black. “Yes?” 

“Commander Bev Kree-Sanat. Starfleet Intelligence.” She holds out a hand, stiffly, and I reach out hesitantly to shake. Something’s off about her, she feels…  _ muted _ ? Or maybe I’m just thrown off by hearing Federation Standard for the first time in almost a week aside from Rachel. “I heard that your mother was in an accident.” 

“Yes. We’re… adjusting.” 

“Of course. Apologies.” She pulls her hand back, standing ramrod straight with her hands clasped behind her back. “Your country needs your help, Ensign Valen.” 

“Sir?” 

“Details are classified. Come with me.” 

“Uh, sir, I’m off-duty…” 

“Rephrase. Come with me, please.” 

What in the name of… “Sir, what’s going on?” But I follow, as she leads me away from the shops, into an alley behind a restaurant. Not a soul in sight. “What’s this about, sir?” 

Kree-Sanat pulls off the glasses, revealing flinty grey eyes. “Your mother’s symbiote, Odan, was recently engaged in an investigation into a suspected domestic terrorist cell. We believe that the previous host was killed by one of the terrorists, and we think that you could help us foil their plan.” 

“Why me?” 

“Your personal stake in the matter is a potential asset. The terrorists are believed to be motivated by anti-symbiote ideology, and your public dispute with that cafe owner last week gives you a potential hook to connect with them, letting you more easily infiltrate the cell.” 

“With respect, sir, isn’t there somebody else who could...I don’t know, who has the training for this?” 

“The blast that killed Kinjer Odan was almost certainly set off by one of these radicals covering their tracks. Kinjer was investigating vague rumors of neo-Purist activity and got taken out by a trilithium explosive with a remote detonator. They’re active and organized enough to know who’s on their side, we need someone convincingly sympathetic to their goals on short notice, and that means you’re it.” 

“But  _ me _ ? How am I supposed to pretend to be a domestic terrorist?” 

“You were seen in public having an altercation with a cafe owner over alleged anti-symbiote bias. It’s on the local news.” She pulls out a PADD. I see the headline ‘Worrisome bigotry on Trill soil—are Neo-Purist sentiments spreading?’. “The comments section has already been locked down, but the video’s gone locally viral.” 

Well, that explains the stares and glares I’ve been getting all day. “Great. Now I’m personal non grata on my own homeworld.” 

“This can be used to our advantage, Ensign Valen. It makes you look sympathetic to neo-Purist political ideology. We send you in, there’s a good chance they’ll trust you. And before you ask, if they already have trilithium resin explosives, they could be planning something  _ big _ . You don’t want to wake up tomorrow and see that the Federal Building in Leran Manev got blown sky-high, do you?” 

“Well… no, sir.” 

“Exactly.” She dons the sunglasses again. “Can the Federation count on you, Ensign?” 

“I… I guess so, sir. But… wait, how will I contact you? When and where am I supposed to do this?” 

“I’ll be in touch,” Kree-Sanat promises, shaking my hand. “The Federation thanks you for your service, Ensign Valen. You can’t possibly know how important you are to us.” 

***

_ Teal’c Municipal Shuttleport. March 28th.  _

I snap to attention as USS  _ Bajor _ ’s science officer, my boss’s boss, steps off the suborbital passenger shuttle. “Thank you for coming, sir.”

Birail Riyannis smiles and gestures at her button-up blouse and loose trousers. That dark green goes really well with her coppery Iklani skin, I wish I had that kind of fashion sense (though Rachel, loyal girlfriend that she is, always says I look radiant in anything). “I’m not in uniform, you don’t have to salute me, Ensign.” Except, of course, she says ‘ _ zhas _ ’, not ‘I’, because she’s got a worm in her pouch, too.

“Right, sorry.”

She chuckles. “You haven’t been on leave in a while, have you?”

I nod ruefully. “Not like this, no, sir. Sorry to drag you away from your family.”

_ Hahr _ waves it off. “It’s fine, they changed the estimate two hours before my ship docked—Penya’s baby’s probably not coming for another week and she  _ somehow _ managed to have the last one without me.” I manage a sympathetic laugh. “We going to stand here on the tarmac all day, or are you going to take me to your house?” 

“Of course, sir—sorry, it’s been a rough week.” 

“I understand, it’s never easy. Your father’s a telepath, right?” she asks as we head for the parking garage.

“Yes, sir. Reman refugee. We’re both having trouble adjusting, it’s… it’s like she’s sitting there but something else is thinking with her brain?” 

“Using English?”  _ hahr  _ comments. Great. Now I can’t get the pronouns out of my head. 

I realize I switched languages mid-sentence and grimace. “Can’t stomach Trill at the moment. Between the whole… pronouns for the whole, and the stuff that happened back in town the other day, and now this Intel officer wanting me to—Uh.” I hurriedly cut that off.

_ Hahr  _ looks askance at me as we get into Dad’s groundcar. “Intel officer?”

“I… It, uh, it might be classified?”

The Trill purses  _ hahr’a _ lips. “Valen, I have top-secret clearance, and I think keeping my officers sane qualifies as ‘need to know’. What’s going on?” I mull the question over in my head for a moment. “I can make it an order if you want—that way it’s my fault.”

I grimace. That’s really  _ not _ much of a defense, but then again, there was that whole thing with Shaw that I’m not supposed to talk about, too, and because of that Captain Kanril probably has the oomph to make it stick… “She came up to me in the street. A Kreetassian, said her name was Kree-Sanat?”

“Bev Kree-Sanat?” I nod. “Yeah, I know her, she was on the Shaw task force.”

“She wants me to… to infiltrate a Neep cell.”

_ Hahr _ takes a sharp, hissing breath through  _ hahr’a _ teeth. “Okay, start from the beginning.”

“Well, Commander, I was at a netcafe talking to Rachel…” The story spills out in a rush. “… and now I think I’m going crazy like… because my mom’s not my mom and they’re expecting a biologist to be a damn  _ spy _ all of a sudden!”

“Whew!” Riyannis shakes  _ hahr’a _ head. “Gaunt’s Forty Hosts, this is a fine mess. All right, first things first. Symbiosis Commission is clearly dropping the ball on post-Joining counseling. I can call some people I know to get them off their butts. My field docent was emergency-joined, too;  _ hahr _ ’s not going to be happy to hear this.”

“Who was that?” I ask as I make a left turn.

“Admiral Dax.”

My eyes go wide. “ _ The _ Dax? Ezri Dax?”

“Eyes on the road, Ensign,”  _ hahr  _ snaps, raising  _ hahr’a  _ voice a little.

“Sorry.” I quickly snap my eyes forward again. Safety features on the car would have stopped me from doing anything stupid but there’s no percentage in testing them.

“And yeah, as in Vice Admiral Dax.”

“I thought the Dax symbiote was supposed to flunk nearly every host who came before  _ jas _ . It. Them.  _ Rrrg… _ ” I have to make an  _ effort _ to use English. Remembering the symbiote thing… I know it’s stupid, that it shouldn’t piss me off like this, but it’s just  _ raw _ , damn it. 

“I wasn’t a typical applicant—older, and I was already working on my doctoral thesis while assisting at the veterans’ hospital. Civilian at the time—I didn’t decide to go to OCS until after I was Joined.”

I grit my teeth. “So… personality change?”

“Ah.” She winces and slowly nods. “How much further is it?”

“Ten minutes?”

“Then… look, this strip mall up here, there’s a cafe. Let’s get a bite, face your mother on a full stomach.”

“Jaka Reg’s a pricey place, sir.”

“Don’t worry, I’m buying.”

It  _ is _ pricey. The humans like to think money is a relic of an unpleasant past, and Tellarites barely bother with it except on frontier worlds where replicator grids haven’t been fully implemented yet, but Trill doesn’t change much. The symbiotes don’t like it— _ no,  _ **_stop_ ** _ thinking like that, damn it. _ And it’s not like the Bajorans tossed it out with the Cardies, either…

While I fight with myself, Riyannis orders us overpriced raktajinos, soup, and sandwiches from a pretty Muronan barista and takes me to a corner booth. (Ten credits for a sandwich? The Grand Nagus would be jealous.)  _ Hahr  _ takes a swallow of Klingon coffee while I wonder if the incredibly cushy leather seat is what the menu is paying for, and then says, “All right, look. If you’re asking if I’m the same person I was before I was Joined, of course not. But are  _ you _ the same person you were before you were accepted to Starfleet Academy?”

“Well, I think… There’s a bit of a difference there…”

“Is there? You left home, you met a lot of different people, you learned a lot of new facts, new ideas, learned your cushy little life here on the homeworld wasn’t all the universe could offer. The little guy here?”  _ Hahr  _ pats  _ hahr’a  _ pouch. “ _ Jas _ is the same thing.  _ Jas _ experienced four lifetimes before  _ zhei _ , and  _ zhei _ remember them, as surely as  _ zhei _ remember  _ zhei’l _ own first day of school.”  _ Hahr _ switches to English, for some reason. “But I’m still me. I joined Starfleet to… I think to get closer to my mother, not because Devon Riyannis served.”

“Your mom’s in Starfleet?” I sip my raktajino and immediately reach for the sugar.  _ Hahr _ ordered them both black, I don’t even know how  _ hahr  _ can drink it this way. Or Rachel, for that matter; you’d think a woman with a hyper-rapid metabolism would subsist on sweetened everything just for the calories.

“My biological mother was, yes. She died on the  _ Shanghai _ at Second Chin’toka when I was two.”

“Ouch. I’m sorry.”

_ Hahr  _ waves a hand dismissively; I can feel a little hurt from  _ hahr _ , but it’s like an old achy twinge. “Like I said, I was two. But Pallas hadn’t been off maternity leave for more than a week before they were put on the line, and that was two days before the Breen joined the war. Dad never really forgave the service, wouldn’t hear of me joining up.”  _ Hahr _ chuckles. “I think all the little guy did was give me the courage to tell him I was applying to OCS and he’d better get used to it.”

“But… but you went through the process, through the approval with the Commission. Mother didn’t.”

“Well, yeah. It does help to keep  _ zhei’a _ memories and  _ dezh’n _ separate if you’ve been through the training, but Admiral Dax had to do it after, too.”

“But—” I bite into my sandwich and chew while I try to put my thoughts in order. “She  _ feels _ wrong.”

“As in what? Clammy skin? That can be a symptom, from the metabolic shift.” 

I shake my head. “No, to my mind.” 

_ Hahr _ smacks  _ hahr _ self in the side of the head. “Oh, right, duh, empath. Sorry about that.” I shrug in response. “OK. I can see where that might cause… discomfort.” 

“Yeah.” I sip my raktajino with a grimace. “I’m not a full teep, but it was still… I walked into my parents’ house and there was somebody I’d never met before sitting there with my mother’s body.” 

“… Huh.”  _ Hahr _ clearly wants to say something, but seems to be having trouble finding the words. “That sounds… I don’t really have a good comparison. Um. Alright, I can try answering any questions you have Symbiote Ed might have missed. Sometimes they  _ really _ miss the mark, everyone’s experience is different, even in between lives.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Oh, yeah.”  _ Hahr _ chuckles ruefully. “See, every host-half has a different personality, but that also affects  _ the experience of Joining _ . Because it’s reflective of different brain patterns. And back before they federalized the state symbiosis agencies and started screening out anyone with anything vaguely approaching mental health issues—and I get  _ why _ , the risk of a symbiote-half picking up something dangerous from their other half is a thing, but that also filters out a lot of people who are perfectly functional but just wired differently—anyway, back before that, you could get Joined with someone who  _ thought _ differently on a fundamental level. My first host had an attention-deficit disorder.”

“Wow, really?”

“Yeah, that was actually really interesting. I would go from unable to focus to the ultimate zeroed-in workaholic.” 

I manage a weak grin in spite of myself. “That sounds fun.” 

“Oh, it was great, I just annoyed the living daylights out of everybody else around me.”  _ Hahr _ takes a sip of raktajino with a fond smile. “You might have noticed, I can still fall back into that mode sometimes. Riyannis can, I mean.” 

“You can…  _ keep _ traits of one host?” 

“Well, yeah, the blending goes both ways. Riyannis picks up bits of Birail Izer just like that part of me picks up part of the little guy.” 

I nod along. “That reminds me—I noticed before, you don’t always refer to… the symbiote as yourself.” 

_ Hahr _ pauses for a moment. “I never really thought about that, to be honest. I guess… I know who I was before I was joined, so I can mostly tell which memories are Pirka’s, or Borryn’s, or the others’.”  _ Hahr  _ raises one slender finger. “It took practice, though, don’t misunderstand.” 

“But… Riyannis isn’t part of  _ you _ ?” 

“No, that’s not… ugh. It’s hard to explain until you experience it. But, basically… on a neurological level, there is no distinct line where Riyannis begins and Birail Izer ends, and vice versa. Sort of like… you’re a biologist, you know how in Basic Ecology they teach you about the Wallace zone on Earth?” 

“Yeah, where the Australian animal groups and the Asian animal groups kind of overlap in Indonesia?” I got an A in that course mostly because I was one of maybe five students in it not blatantly doing the bare minimum for the major requirement. 

“Exactly. Only instead of animal groups, it’s nervous systems. There are neurons that are genetically Birail that grow into Riyannis and vice versa, that will stay around and affect the construction of Riyannis’s central ganglion after Birail dies. And theoretically, if the system shock didn’t kill me, if you removed Riyannis there would be bits of me still in Birail-me’s nervous system, that would theoretically affect my memories. Not so much the personality, it’d be Biri Izer thinking with one brain instead of two, not Birail Riyannis thinking with Izer’s brain only. If that makes sense.” 

“Sort of?” I think I get where she’s…  _ hahr’a _ … she’s going. Fuck pronouns, I really should’ve paid more attention in Symbiote Ed. “Basically, there’s currently one you with two brains. And one of the brains has memories of previous hosts?” 

“That’s probably the best way to put it. Damn, and an emergency joining, too…” She grimaces. “I know it’s a big ask, but can you… I don’t know, try to suppress your anxiety?” 

“I’ve been trying,” I reply, trying not to let it rankle. The Commander just wants to help. “It’s just… It’s like walking in someone and they’re  _ different _ , mentally. Minds don’t change that much over time if they aren’t hit with some kind of severe trauma, and even then...I don’t know, there’s a core identity beneath that you can sort of pick up on, I guess? The instinctive reactions are recognizable. But this… it’s  _ weird _ , sir. I guess it’s like what telepathic interrogators have reported, hunting for Undine and Founders? If a shapeshifter replaces someone you know, people say that they pick up on something off about the emotions first, and that always creeps them out. I can’t compare directly but I think that’s the closest way to describe it.” 

“Huh, that’s something that doesn’t normally get considered. Did anybody ever raise this issue in Symbiote Ed?” 

I shake my head. “No, Mom never wanted to be Joined and it never really got brought up.” 

“Yeah, that’s something we need to look into, especially now that there’s population interchange with telepathic species, and more part-Trill… heck, I’ve been dating a Bajoran/Trill cross off and on. One of the engineers who built our warp core, she knows her way around more than just… Ahem,  _ anyway _ ”—I stifle a giggle with the last bite of my sandwich—“we have plenty of adult part-Trill now, and there’s no way there aren’t Trill married to or dating telepaths, we should be able to account for that in the school system. There are maybe ten thousand Orions in the Federation and we still manage to have a federal policy for politely telling Orion kids about the whole sex pheromone thing and how to practice safe sex with those, stands to reason we should be able to do for Symbiote Ed as we do for sex ed.” 

“Well, there wasn’t anything like that while I was in school. We got the standard spiel. The instructor used me as a living example of a hostile pouch. I tried to get out of the course since, well, like she  _ said _ I can’t host a symbiote anyway ‘cause my pouch is malformed and doesn’t have the normal organs, so it wasn’t like I was going to learn anything about Joined health care I’d ever need. And Mom wasn’t going to be Joined, so why bother?” I snort at the memory. “The next year my Joined uncle died in an accident, and...whatever the English for  _ zhakkana _ is, anyway when the symbiote was transplanted into the new host, it catalyzed him figuring out he was assigned the wrong gender at birth, and so he was transitioning,  _ and _ he tried to get back with my uncle’s husband, and they both got blacklisted from their jobs, kicked out of the union system right in the middle of the guild elections, and they were in a legal battle for years, the new host’s family disowned him. My parents tried to help them out, it was a huge mess.” 

“Gaunt’s hosts, I’m so sorry…” 

I shrug. “Hey, at least since the Dax and Kahn case, exile wasn’t a concern.” At the same time, just because the Federation Council would throw any attempt at reinstating exile for reassociation out with extreme prejudice doesn’t mean that there aren’t other ways that people in that situation get fucked over. 

“Fair,” she admits. “Still can’t believe those two kept it going through three incarnations each, and multiple marriages and affairs in between. It has to be the symbiotes who’re in love, affecting the hosts.” 

“… How  _ does  _ that work?” I ask, cautiously. “Symbiote Ed talks about personality blending and all, but…” 

“Well, hmm.” The Commander pauses and takes a gulp of her raktajino. “Okay, example. I was a hundred percent lesbian growing up, no attraction to males whatsoever, but when I became Birail Riyannis…  _ Riyannis _ doesn’t see gender.”

I nod slowly, starting to see what she's getting at. “Because the symbiote doesn’t have one.”

“Yep, and on top of that I remember and partly feel the preferences of my previous hosts. Plus their experiences—I can remember sex as both a man and a woman,  _ with  _ both men and women, plus a few other variations if you take my meaning.” She gives me a significant glance, but her mouth is twitching and I cover my mouth to keep from giggling. “Right, so now I’m kind of 60/40 on the ladies’ team, but for a few years there I was feeling urges and stuff that hadn’t been there before. They try to impress that into you in training, that your entire identity will be changed, but it’s kind of more than that? Birail Izer is still  _ here _ , just with  _ more _ mixed in. If I were to be separated, I-Birail would probably go back to mostly the way I was before being Joined, before the system shock hit anyway. Maybe a few lingering quirks. But the core thought process would be that part of me, the  _ zhei _ part.” 

“So… my mother…” 

“She’s still there,” she assures me. “She’s had somebody else mentally fused with her, it’s going to be a  _ very _ strange month. But she’s  _ there _ and if she’s ever un-Joined she will be just like you remember her. Probably will feel the same, too.” 

“Oh.” I consider the wadded-up remains of my sandwich wrapper in my hands. 

“Is that where the problem is?” 

I bite my lip. “It’s… complicated.” I lick my lips, hands shaking. I’ve never been more glad to be the only empath on the planet. “I know it’s shitty to be all about me, I know  _ intellectually _ that  _ hahr _ needs help, I had Symbiote Ed, but it’s… it’s one thing to know it, and another to  _ be _ there and to  _ feel _ it.” 

“That’s… fair,”  _ hahr _ admits. “I don’t have the first clue of how to deal with that, but… all I can really say is, your mother is there, and needs your support. Believe me, I’ve been through it five times—nothing’s quite as scary as those first few weeks, when you have your brains working properly but all your friends and family are looking at you funny.” 

I nod robotically. Nothing else I really can do. “Thank you, sir. I’ll… do my best.” 

“All right, Ensign. Better finish your soup so I can go have this conversation again with your parents.”

***

_ March 29th _ . 

“Remember,” Kree-Sanat hisses in my ear. “If you get a little roughed up, that makes it look better. If you can’t, just rub a little dirt on yourself when nobody’s looking.” 

“Got it.” I lick my lips, then step off of the trolley. Gotta love that old-school charm, though why my parents settled in a vacation town I’ll never know. “Heading to the cafe.” 

“Remove your comm. I’ll shadow you, don’t worry.” 

“Right.” I pull the earpiece out under the guise of scratching my ear, and ditch it in a waste incinerator. Swimmer’s tears, what am I doing? I don’t have any black-ops training, I’m going to screw it up somehow, a deplorable little bigot like me…

Wait. That’s not just me talking. I’m picking up animosity from some of the locals.  _ Great. I KNOW to keep a better handle on things, damn it! _ I force myself to control my breathing and pay closer attention to whose emotions I’m picking up. 

The cafe proprietor who threw me out last week looks up as I enter. “I thought I told you to get out and stay out?” he growls in English, storming over. 

“I just want a coffee—”

“And I want a Federation free from bigotry, I guess we can’t always get what we want. But I  _ can _ throw you out, as many times as it takes until you get the message.” 

I don’t even have to manufacture the anger. “Give me a  _ fucking _ break! I came back from three years of my tour to find that my mother isn’t my mother anymore! Do you have  _ any _ idea what it’s like to walk into a room and someone you don’t know turns around and  _ hahr _ has your mother’s face?” 

He’s going as red as a Terran apple, and gets right up into my personal space. “Get out right now or I’ll call the police, you green-blooded leech!” 

“And what’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?” I hiss, leaning in. 

“It means that your kind can’t just come here to the Federation thinking that you can do things however you like! Around here, we  _ respect _ different species!” He pokes me right in the chest over my cleavage, and I bat his hand away. 

“Different species like the  _ empath  _ who has to deal with her mother now having a worm in her gut?” 

He punches me in the stomach, and I fold over as pain blooms over my abdomen. Then I’m being hauled by the lapel, off-balance, and thrown out of the doorway in front of a crowd amid shrieks of shock. “And  _ stay _ out!” 

“Hey!” Someone’s standing over me, a spark of rage in a flawless sphere of perfect glass, or at least that’s how my mental senses feel it. The voice is female, alto, speaking English with a Leran Manev prep-school accent. “What are you doing to this poor woman? I’m streaming this on QuarkBook Live!” 

“This green-blooded Rommie-spawn came in here insulting my people! I’m within my rights!” 

“I saw you assault her, you made contact first!” The woman reaches down to pull me up, and I stand unsteadily, vision swimming. “This is going on the extranet!” 

“Get lost!” the proprietor shouts, but he withdraws into his cafe as my rescuer, an older blonde woman with grey streaks in her hair and small spots on pale skin, helps me away. 

“Are you alright?” she asks me, brushing off my blouse. “That rat bastard ought to be ashamed, what a  _ disgrace _ !” 

“I’ll live,” I groan, the woman helping me into an alley. “I’m sorry about that, you didn’t need to get involved.” 

“Just because you have a problem with the worms doesn’t give people like him the right to push you around.” She looks my face over quickly. “I don’t see any bruising. Hey, didn’t I see you on the local news?” 

I groan. “Yeah. I got into a little argument with that jerk the other day. I’m Eleana, Eleana Valen.” 

“Kell Perim,” the other Trill replies, shaking my hand. She’s older, maybe sixty, but her grip’s still strong and her eyes burn with the fire at her heart. “You’ve suffered because of the worms, haven’t you?” 

“Yes,” I admit, wide-eyed, and it’s only half an act. “My mother, Joined while I was on duty in Cardassian space. I came back, and…” The raw horror of looking into my mother’s eyes and feeling something indescribably ancient and alien look back… “I can’t let that happen to anyone, ever again.” 

She looks pleased at that. “What if I told you there was something we could do to help people like your mother?” Kell asks. 

“What?” I ask, acting shocked. “What do you mean?” 

Kell looks left and right. “I might have a means to end the worms for taking our loved ones.  _ Forever _ .” 

“How?” I stand straighter, making a point of glancing both ways myself. “Verad Kalon didn’t convince many when he held that starship hostage in the ‘80s.” 

Kell grins. “Let me show you?” she asks. 

I nod, and the nervousness is real. “A...alright. Lead the way.” 

She escorts me quickly down the alley, peeking out the other end to look both ways. “This way.” She leads me to an aircar, and I hesitate, just for a moment. 

_ Lives are at stake, _ I remind myself.  _ These people are behind what happened to Mom. _

I get in, against my better instincts, and Kell slides into the driver’s seat. “Good to have another ‘Fleetie who’s seen the light,” she says as the antigravity hums into action. “You’ve read  _ The Great Lie _ and  _ Our Struggle _ ?” 

“Only the first,” I lie. I don’t even know what those  _ are _ , probably some extremist literature. 

“Alright,” Kell nods. “It’s a start.” She pulls the aircar up into the clouds and flips a switch. “That’s the cloak. Smooth sailing for a few kilometers now.” 

“This thing  _ cloaks _ ?” 

“Cost me a lot of latinum, too. It’s from a Romulan shuttle a Ferengi was selling, I got the parts at a discount.” She reclines a bit in her seat, looking over to me. “You need to learn how to keep up a facade for the blind ones,” she tells me. “Getting into fights with the sheep? You’d be picked up by planetary security by the end of the week.” 

“I’m not exactly trained in keeping things secret,” I admit. “Xeno-microbes? I’m your woman. Plotting a revolution like Verad Kalon, I’m not so experienced.” 

“Hmph.” She eyes me up and down again. “Well, you’re Starfleet. We adapt, right?” 

I manage a decent friendly grin. “Ha, yeah, weird is part of the job, right?” 

“Exactly.” Her smile is real; it’s quite soft and friendly, but something about it just...doesn’t look  _ right _ . Or maybe that’s my senses picking her mind up. “Tell me, Ensign--how far are you willing to go to save your mother?” 

4th form stint in drama club, don’t fail me now. “I’ll do anything,” I tell her, sitting up straighter. “ _ Anything _ .” 

Kell’s smile widens. “Glad to hear it. We’re here.” She turns back to the controls, and the air-car drops out of the clouds, descending to a rustic little country cottage nestled deep in the hills.  _ Off the grid _ . She’s probably been working from here for a while. 

“So… how exactly are we going to save Mom?” I ask. “Do you have a friend at Command, or on the Council?” 

“No,” Kell says, parking the aircar and opening her door. “There isn’t enough political will. They called me  _ mentally unstable _ , tarred me as crazy just because I saw the truth.” She shakes her head as I emerge from the car, staring out at the mountains. “No, I have a different plan. We’re going to make the symbiotes an endangered species.” 

My blood runs cold, but I swallow my revulsion and manage a “…How?” 

Kell leads the way into the cabin with a joyless smile. “With this.” 

The bulky array of wires, tubes, and bubbling water dominates half of the room. It looks almost like something from a power plant. 

“What…  _ is _ that?” 

“Fuel cell,” Kell says shortly. “I’m refining tritium.” 

“Tritium? Isn’t that…” 

“Yes indeed.” That joyless grin again. “We’re going to make a hydrogen bomb, Ensign. It’ll be the ultimate attention-grabber.” 

I struggle to maintain my cover, though I want to turn tail and flee more than anything.  _ What would Rachel do? _ Scratch that, just think of Rachel’s courage, Rachel would just punch something (and I’m not a bioengineered living weapon with years of combat experience, so that’s not really a workable solution for my current problem). “…What’s the target?” 

“Where else? The Caves of Mak’Kala. Hit the worms right in their home base.” 

***

_ March 30th _ . 

“We need you to work with Ms. Perim,” Kree-Sanat tells me over lunch. 

“Wait,  _ what _ ? I’m pissed, but I don’t want to  _ nuke the Caves of Mak’kala! _ ” My voice is barely above a hiss, but Kree-Sanat seems to hear it alright. 

“Infiltration of her group is required.” Kree-Sanat, unmoved, calmly eats a spoonful of  _ gagh _ . I didn’t know Kreetassians could tolerate Klingon food; that stuff has to be hard to get on Trill, too. “Are you a patriot, Ensign Valen?” 

“My girlfriend sure is.” I take a sip of tea--Kree-Sanat browbeat the staff here into serving us, so at least I’ve got something. Rather kind of her. “I’m not a qualified Intel agent, ma’am.” 

“You’re capable enough for my purposes, and you’ve become known locally for an anti-symbiote outburst. I can manipulate that to get you into a meeting, and I’ll be watching the whole time. Just in case.” 

“And then?” 

“Foil her scheme. Use whatever means you deem necessary.” 

“What,  _ kill _ her?” 

“If you deem it necessary.” Kree-Sanat slurps up a worm with relish. “You’ve been talking with a Joined. Commander Birail Riyannis.” 

“Yes, sir. My father and I needed some advice.” 

“Hmm. Don’t tell her about the mission, this must remain need-to-know.” 

_ Damn it.  _ “I already did, sir.” 

Kree-Sanat goes ramrod-straight. “You  _ what _ ?” 

“I’m sorry, sir,  _ hahr _ has a higher security clearance and said that  _ hahr _ knows you from the manhunt for Ellen Shaw—”

The Kreetassian cuts me off with a wave. “Ah, yes. That Birail Riyannis. Very well. Does she plan to offer assistance?” 

“I don’t know, sir.  _ Hahr  _ knows that I’m supposed to infiltrate this Neep cell. That’s about all I told  _ hahr _ .” 

“Acceptable.” Something’s really nagging at the back of my mind, but with everything going on, I’m not really able to focus on vague feelings of things not being right. Kree-Sanat sucks down another mouthful of worms with gusto. “Currently, the plan is for you to acquire Ms. Perim’s trust. We need a strong case, so running some simple errands for her, acquiring components, is acceptable.” 

“Isn’t that a bit of a risk?” 

“Let me worry about that. You focus on the job. Remember, your country needs you, Ensign Valen.” 

“Right, of course… I’m just, you know. Worried.” 

“Understandable. It’s a lot of responsibility. But we believe in you, Ensign. You can make an immense difference, we are certain.” 

***

“Rachel, I need help,” I tell the camera. My door’s locked, and I have a fan running for white noise in the background just in case. “Honey, I… Oh, Sef. It’s bad, it’s really bad.” I cover my face for a moment, suck in a breath, and let it out. “I need you here, Rachel, I don’t know who else to call. There’s an Intel agent who has me infiltrating a terrorist cell, but the woman, Kell, the terrorist I mean… Rachel, I don’t know what to do, she’s making a hydrogen bomb and she’s going to blow up the Caves of Mak’Kala, the Intel agent, Bev, she isn’t doing anything, and I don’t know what to  _ do _ !” 

I wish Rachel were able to answer, but the  _ Bajor _ must be away from a starbase, because she isn’t available for live coms. “Please, contact me as soon as you can,” I half-beg. “I’m sorry, I’m so confused, and my mother, she isn’t… I don’t know what to do. Please, baby, I need you.” 

I must sound horribly pathetic. But… I don’t know what to  _ do _ . 

***

_ April 3rd.  _

The fuel cell’s surrounded by wires and tubes, and I can’t help but wonder for a moment why Kree-Sanat wants to wait until  _ after _ Kell’s refined the tritium to move in. Probably wants a stronger case or something. 

“So…” I ask Kell. “Why’d you join the movement?” 

“‘ _ Movement _ ’?” Kell chuckles grimly at that. “Not much of one. I just read the truth and decided to act. Asked a few too many questions, I guess. So now I’ve got lost ones like you and spooks like Odan creeping down my neck.” 

My blood runs cold. “Odan?” 

“Yeah, they sent a worm with nearly a thousand years’ experience to track me down, in the husk of some poor bastard called Kinjer. I had some spare trilithium resin, so I set up a fake meet and blew it to, well, whatever afterlife you believe in.” She takes a swig of Aldebaran whiskey. “It was your mother they took, right?” 

I nod, speechless. I knew intellectually that someone must’ve set the bomb that killed Odan’s previous host, was the cause of all this. But knowing that Kell did it… and knowing what it’ll mean if she connects the dots…

For once, I’m almost glad that the Symbiosis Commission kept this whole mess under such tight wraps. 

“It was my husband, for me,” Kell whispers as she leans over the blueprints, mind boiling with an ugly mess of oily black pain and festering, stinking brown bitter rage like an open sewer on a preindustrial backwater. 

“What happened?” 

“He was on a diplomatic mission, to the Talarians. During their collapse.” She pushes back and slumps in her chair, reaching for her bottle of Aldebaran whiskey. “Bejal was a senior aide to the Ambassador, Hanor Peers. I’d just taken my papers from Starfleet, we were going to start trying for a baby and get a nice house on the southern coast.” She takes a swig, straight from the bottle. “So, there was an attack. On the delegation, Talarian revanchists with the White Starhawk faction. Molun Lakuc’s goons, the ones who mass-murdered civilians on Cova Banda in ‘82.” 

“He was killed?” 

“Worse.” Kell takes another swig, her bony hand flexing on the whiskey bottle. “Hanor was killed by the bomb, brain damage. So they put Peers in the closest available Trill. Which was Bejal.” She licks her lips, hand shaking as she takes another drink. “I left the  _ Reiwa _ and landed here just in time to hear that Bejal was someone else. They told me to call him Bejal  _ Peers _ . That  _ fucking _ worm in his gut took his  _ identity _ .” She swears again, slamming the whiskey down on the arm of her chair; I note in the detached back of my mind that she’s using the host-he, not the whole-he. “It came back wearing his skin, but it wasn’t him. It tried to tell me it was, but it wasn’t him, it talked differently,  _ moved _ differently, I just… I couldn’t do it. I argued with it, it turned into a fight. Another fight. Another. He left, it left. I had nothing.” She goes quiet, her mind bubbling, and I don’t know how to respond,  _ can’t _ respond, frozen by the raw hate eating at the edge of my mental senses. 

“So.” She says after a minute’s silence. “That’s how I got here. I read some Verad Kalon, confirmed what I already knew in my heart. Those things steal our bodies and souls, have for millennia. We need to stop them, cut them out at the roots. I don’t want to kill them all, all life is precious and all that, if there were another way… but there  _ isn’t _ one. The government won’t listen to us. When I tried to go to Paris, I got told to get therapy. I’m not… I don’t  _ need _ therapy. I need to stop them, stop the worms from taking more people like they took Bejal.” 

“I’m sorry,” I manage. 

“Don’t be.  _ You _ didn’t take him.” She squeezes her eyes shut, tears slipping out from the lids as she takes a shaky breath. I struggle to keep my breath steady, to tamp down the instinctive fight-or-flight response that boils up as the woman’s emotions claw at my senses. I have just enough presence of mind to slip the tracking beacon that Kree-Sanat had me bring onto the underside of the table and press it on. 

Kell needs help, and she needs it badly. But that isn’t the worst part. 

The worst part is that I feel the same underlying shock and loss that set her on this path. The same frustration, rage… the same  _ hate _ . 

And it terrifies me. 

***

_ Room 221, Aida Greens Golf Resort, Teal’c. 10:30 AM local time, April 5th, 2412. _

Being on hold, no matter what the time period, state, or species, is annoying. Birail Riyannis had five lifetimes’ experience with being on hold, and it was only those centuries of experience coupled with nigh-on two decades of government and military service that kept the Trill from tapping fingers with boredom. And even then, it was tempting. 

Finally, the call went through: a black-clad Andorian admiral appeared on the screen.  _ “This is Rear Admiral zh’Zoarhi. What’s so important that Kanril Eleya called in a favor on me?”  _

“Admiral zh’Zoarhi, I’m Commander Birail Riyannis, Kanril’s Chief Science Officer. One of yours has recruited one of my subordinates for a mission, and I have serious concerns. Why is a biologist with no covert operations training an ideal candidate for an anti-terror sting?”

_ “What?” _ The admiral seemed surprised at the question. _ “I think you have us confused with Section 31, Commander, we don’t put Starfleet officers at risk like that.”  _

“Well, apparently someone’s decided to play fast and loose with regulations, because I have one of your blackshirts sending a xenobiologist in  _ my  _ department to go infiltrate a domestic terrorist cell here on Trill, when she’s on family leave, no less. I’ve been trying to get through for  _ days _ and I’m about ready to take this all the way up to Admiral Kree, who I should hope will take a dim view of this little frelling scheme. I want to know just  _ what  _ Commander Kree-Sanat thinks she’s playing at—”

At that the Andorian’s antennae both swiveled to face the screen, a stunned expression on her face.  _ “Kree-Sa—What in the Wastes are you talking about, Commander?” _ she interrupted. _ “Bev is at home on medical leave!” _

“… I beg your pardon?” Now it was Biri’s turn to be baffled.

_ “She was having a problem with her prostheses after a mission in the Delta Quadrant and took leave while Dr. Crusher’s people work up a fix.” _

Biri stared at the screen, hunting for any trace of deception on the SFI deputy chief’s face. “You sure?”

_ “She left Earth three weeks ago, Riyannis. I have her leave authorization and ‘space available’ pass for the  _ Connecticut _ right here.” _ She held a PADD up to the camera.  _ “Captain Rotaal called to let me know personally when he dropped her off at Kreetassia—we dated briefly at the Academy.” _

Biri read the screen with growing trepidation. “Then who in Gaunt’s name is running a black op with my officer?”

***

“Eleana!” my mother’s voice calls from the doorway. “Someone’s here to see you from Starfleet Intelligence!” 

_ Kree-Sanat.  _ Fvadt _! This can’t be good… _ I save the paper on parallel evolution of bryophyte-like xenofauna I’ve been poring through (doing some work to distract from the Kell situation has been my only respite from anxiety this week), close my computer, and trot down the stairs as… as Nilani Odan goes to get some water and glasses. “Commander? What’s going on?” 

“Kell’s on the move,” the Kreetassian snaps, her jacket askew and a tear in her pants—probably put them over her cyber-legs the wrong way. “She gave us the slip before my men could move in.” 

“What?” I frown. “But where’s she going? She has some tritium and the framework of the device, but how’s she going to infiltrate the caves?” 

“I suspect that she acquired an access code for priority transport. Either way, we must move immediately.” 

“Right, let me get some shoes on and we can stop the crazy person from nuking the Caves of Mak’Kala--” 

There’s a  _ crash _ from up the hall, and Kree-Sanat and I turn. My mother’s mouth is open,  _ hahr’a _ eyes wide with horror. 

“…Damn it,” I mutter. Because of course I can’t keep a secret.  _ There goes my career _ . 

“Somebody’s going to  _ what _ ?” Nilani Odan asks. It sounds so much like my mother, it  _ hurts _ . “We have to stop them!” 

“You’re the mother? The one who was Joined recently?” Kree-Sanat asks. 

“Yes, what does that have to—”

“Come with us. I’ll read you in as we go.” She turns, heading out to the aircar parked out front. 

My mo—the Joined, my mother and  _ zhei’a _ symbiote, whatever, I can’t keep thinking like this—turns to me. “Eleana, what’s going on?” 

“Long story,” I admit. “Come on, we need to go, Kell’s… she’s in pain, and she isn’t helping herself, and she’s going to do something really bad if Commander Kree-Sanat and I can’t stop her.” 

“You…”  _ Hahr _ shakes  _ hahr'a _ head. “ _ Zhas _ am coming with you.” 

“What?” Instinctive fear flashes through me,  _ that’s my mother _ , no it isn’t, Swimmer’s tears, no, what should I even… “You can’t!” 

“ _ Jas _ have seven lives and that one time  _ jas _ Joined a Human as a diplomat, it’s like riding a hoverbike—”

“No, Kell hates Joined, she hates symbiotes! She’d rather shoot you than listen to you!” 

“ _ Zhas _ don’t care. You are  _ not _ going into this situation alone. Get your shoes.  _ KIATEK! _ ” 

“ _ What? _ ” my father calls out at about the highest volume he can muster from one of the back rooms. 

“Do you remember where you put your old disruptor?” 

“Mom, no! She needs help, not a hole in the chest! And—do you even know how to  _ use _ a disruptor?” 

_ Hahr _ taps  _ hahr'a _ abdomen. “Picked up enough when  _ jas _ was William, and  _ jas’n _ first host fought in the Unification Wars.  _ Zhei _ will not lose  _ zhei’a _ daughter today.  _ Jas _ can’t go through that again.” 

***

_ Approaching the Caves of Mak’Kala, 11:00 hours Lekarna time.  _

“You’ve been talking with  _ Purists _ ?” 

“Only for the mission!” I protest as waves of fear and shock pour off of Odan. My mother. The two/whole of  _ hahr _ , whichever. Fucking symbiosis. “Look, I’m not happy about what they did to you, Mom, but I’m not going to participate in  _ genocide _ over it!” 

“That Intel officer put you up to this?” 

“She said it was top secret, wanted to use that argument I had in town the week before last to help me infiltrate the cell.” I run a hand through my hair, sparing a glance for the shuttle’s cockpit, where Kree-Sanat’s flying us to the Caves. “But there’s only one of them, Kell, she’s hurting and her husband was Joined and she refused counselling…” 

My mother spits out a curse in Havran. It’s so odd to hear her use it that way, she usually only speaks it when she and Dad are being cuddly and romantic.  _ Hin.  _ Or  _ hahr _ . Or whatever my mother is now. “And here  _ zhas _ am burning every one of Kinjer and Kareel’s favors in the government to get you and your father some support…” She switches to Klingon, a language I don’t know, and says something so profane my translator implant bleeps it out. “How did she get her hands on the weapon?” 

“She had a fuel cell, disassembling spent fusion cores could give her any more tritium she needed. I wanted to move in faster, but Commander Kree-Sanat said—”

Mom curses again in another language that doesn’t translate properly, there’s some kind of idiom involving moons. “Of course. Who else knows?” 

“Uh—Commander Riyannis, my department head, that’s it. It’s supposed to be top-secret—”

“But—why wasn’t  _ zhas _ read in?  _ Dezh _ died in a bombing thanks to that Kell woman!” 

My heart stops. “Wait,  _ what _ ?” 

“ _ Zher _ was tracking down suspected neo-Purist activity—Kinjer was a detective for  _ the Trill Federal Police! _ ”  _ Hahr _ curses again in  _ tlhIngan Hol _ . “Who’s even running this operation?” 

“Um, Commander Kree-Sanat—”

“No, who’s quarterbacking?” 

“I don’t know, I think Commander Kree-Sanat?” 

“Oh for the love of— _ zhas _ am newly Joined, not an  _ invalid _ ! And she had you assist with  _ jas’a _ investigation? What did she make you do?” 

“She let Kell take me to her base a couple of times, there’s a cloaking aircar—”

“ _ She sent  _ zhei’n _ daughter into a terrorist base unsupported? _ ” I’ve  _ never _ seen Mom this angry. Not the time my uncle’s  _ zhakkana _ was ostracized for reassociation, not the time I got hauled in front of the class and told to take my shirt off so the teacher could poke and prod at my malformed pouch as a demonstration,  _ never _ . “Why that little—you could’ve  _ died _ !” 

“I’m fine, Mom, really—” It slips out, and I don’t even notice at first, because for just a moment the mind raging next to me feels more familiar than it has all week. 

“ _ Zhas _ don’t care, how  _ dare _ she…” 

“Mom…” It comes out again, and this time we both realize it. 

“Eleana?”  _ Hahr'a _ voice belies the flare of hope that erupts from the Joined mind. I bite my lip, frantically searching for something to say. What comes out is, 

“Why didn’t Dad have trouble coping?” 

The Joined, my mother, whichever, can’t quite hide  _ hahr'a _ … disappointment? Worry? Some mix of the two? “He was there the whole time, he felt  _ zhei _ and  _ jas _ become  _ zhas _ , he said that made it easier. It’s still been hard for him.”  _ Hahr _ looks away. “He… he’s trying. He’s also three times your age, and he’s had major life upheavals before. Meeting  _ zhei _ , emigrating… meeting you.”  _ Hahr _ laughs, raspy and wet. “ _ Zhei _ felt so terrible, he knew when you were upset before  _ zhei _ could. He was so afraid, too, like you were made of stardust and would disappear if he turned away for too long…” 

_ Fuck _ . I can’t be angry at  _ hahr _ , Joined or symbiote or my mother or whatever. I reach out, impulsively, grab  _ hahr'a _ hand. “Mom, I…” 

Kree-Sanat opens the partition from the shuttle’s cockpit and sticks her head back into the passenger cavity. “Get ready. We’re about to land. There’s a scattering field over the complex, I can beam you part of the way in, but the rest will have to be on foot.” 

“Aren’t there security forces or caretakers on-site?” the Joined, my mother, whichever, asks. 

“Cleared out. Ms. Perim probably had a diversion of some sort ready.” Something about that sounds wrong, but I can’t tell  _ anything _ from the Kreetassian’s mind—it’s so  _ dull _ in there. 

“How would a lone operator do  _ that _ ?” 

“A question that will need to be answered, after we’ve foiled this extremist. You don’t have much time, I’ll bring as much local security as I can find.” 

“But--”  _ Hahr _ shakes  _ hahr’a _ head. “Just  _ hurry _ , then. And we’re going to  _ talk _ after this,  _ Commander _ .” 

“You do that,” the Intel agent replies. There’s a tonelessness to her voice and mind that rubs me the wrong way, but I can’t tell  _ what _ , exactly, is up. Not that I have the time to care—between the mess with my mother and Odan, and Kell’s nuke, I can barely keep a train of thought going. 

***

We’re silent on the way down to the Caves proper. The complex is silent bar the hum of environmental controls; I find myself wishing I’d remembered a communicator. My mother/Odan takes the lead, a few of my mother’s gray hairs escaping her bun as she holds my dad’s old Romulan-issue disruptor pistol (a relic of the Dominion War he hasn’t even fired as long as I can remember) like a professional. 

_ Hahr _ peers around a bend in the corridor, then pulls back. “She’s in the next chamber,” the Joined whispers. “The bomb’s there, too, she’s just… sitting there.” 

“I can talk to her,” I murmur back. “I think she likes me, I can talk her down—” 

“No!”  _ hahr _ hisses. “What if she has a weapon?” 

“I can get through to her,” I promise. “I swear!” 

“ _ Zhas _ am not risking you!” 

“I’ve already  _ been _ at risk!” I run a hand through my hair with exasperation.  _ It’s like dealing with Mom when I wanted to go to that party as a kid, I swear… _ “I know her fear, I know her shock and I can get her pain, I can get through to her.” 

_ Hahr _ glares, but acquiesces. “Then  _ zhas _ will be right behind you. If she so much as threatens you…” 

“Please, just… she needs help.”  _ She’s in pain. Like you, like me. I could’ve become her, if I hadn’t seen what she is now. _

_ Hahr _ still isn’t fully convinced, but grudgingly nods. I guess that’s the best I’m going to get. 

Kell Perim looks up as I walk into the Caves proper, sitting on the bomb right next to a symbiote pool. The would-be terrorist holds a phaser pistol, a remote detonator at her side. “Ensign Valen? What are you doing here?” 

“I’m here for you, Kell,” I reply. “I think… I think this is a mistake.” 

“It has to be done,” she rasps. “It has to be done…” 

“No it doesn’t,” I shoot back, edging closer. “What’s this going to accomplish?” 

“A whole lot of dead worms,” Kell snarls. “That’s gotta mean something.” 

“More innocent lives gone?” I challenge. 

Big mistake. Kell draws her pistol, pointing it at my heart. “ _ Innocent _ ? What’s wrong with you?” 

“Kell, Kell, easy, please don’t shoot me!” I plead. “It was just—”

“ _ Hands in the air! _ ” My mother’s voice; Kell’s attention is drawn away, as is her phaser’s aim. “Don’t you threaten  _ zhas’n _ daughter!” 

“Mom,  _ no! _ ” I cry.  _ Hahr _ has my dad’s disruptor out, stalking forwards… 

“ _ Zhas— _ that’s a  _ Joined _ ? You brought a  _ Joined _ here?” Kell’s face twists into a hateful snarl. “You die first, worm!” 

“Wait,  _ stop! _ ” I shout, but my mother’s already pulling the trigger. 

The battered old disruptor sparks, jumps in  _ hahr'a  _ hand, and dies. 

Kell’s first shot takes  _ hahr  _ off  _ hahr’a  _ feet, and my mother slumps back against the cave wall. 

“ _ No! _ ” I go to run to my mother’s side, but Kell’s voice stops me in my tracks. 

“Hold it! Next shot’s on Kill, give me a good reason why it shouldn’t be  _ you _ !” 

I force myself to turn with my best pleading expression. It doesn’t take much acting. “Kell,  _ please _ , I only want to help you…” 

“You were a government mole this whole time?” Kell spits. She holds the detonator in one hand, her phaser pointed at my mother’s heart. “How  _ could _ you?” 

“I had to, Kell,” I tell her, soft and quiet, using the same tone I use with Rachel when she’s having a bad flashback. “You  _ know _ this is wrong. Thousands upon thousands of lifetimes, hundreds of sapient beings, an entire  _ species _ !” 

“They take so much from us,” Kell whispers. “So  _ much _ . They have us convinced that it’s all good, that it’s  _ right _ that we have to give up our bodies and minds, our rearing-pouches and  _ souls _ , for them. How is that right?” 

“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” I counter. “Look, I think our society’s a beknighted mess, too! That ‘reassociation’ crap—what if the symbiotes fall in love, huh? Shouldn’t they be allowed to spend time together?” My mother turns to me, gaping, confusion and shock that might be Nilani Valen and might be Odan tearing out in a cloud, and I nearly cry but force myself to focus. “Why must we consider getting a symbiote the be-all and end-all of achievement? Why does a symbiote’s life matter over a host’s—did anyone ever ask us if we like that? Sef, did anybody ever ask the  _ symbiotes _ ? Nobody ever bothers to  _ ask _ this crap!” 

“They never asked Bejal,” Kell rasps. “They never asked me, they never asked him.” 

“Yeah. It’s fucked up and a mess, but… Kell. Nilani Valen… my mother, my mother’s always been the kindest soul you’ve ever met. She would  _ never _ want something like this!” 

“You say that, while the worm that killed her’s wearing her body right over there,” the insane Trill snarls, her broken mind leeching something that defies description across my emotional senses. “They  _ deserve _ this. They ruined my life, they  _ killed _ my husband!” 

“Would he want this?” I ask. Her grip on the phaser’s left her knuckles white. “Kell. Tell me about him. What was Bejal like?” 

Her lips tighten into a pained grimace. “Gentle. Kind. He was the homebody, the diplomat, I was the Starfleet officer, the adrenaline junkie. He wanted a daughter, a little girl for me to bond with. I wanted a son, so he could teach our child all of the little things, you know?” She shakes her head. “And he came back and he was talking about finishing his negotiations and  _ he wasn’t Bejal _ .” 

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur, approaching slowly and carefully. “I wish it had all gone differently, Kell. I wish your bomb hadn’t killed Kinjer Odan, I wish those terrorists hadn’t killed Hanor Peers. I wish your husband had lived.” I lick my lips. “But I don’t think that Bejal would’ve wanted you to do this. And I think you know it.” 

Her whole body quivers, grip on the detonator flexing as my heart leaps to my throat. “No,” she rasps. “No, he wouldn’t. But I don’t know what else to  _ do _ . I want to  _ hurt _ them, to kill something so that they’ll know my pain!” 

“And what’ll that do?” I ask, kneeling in front of her. “More death and pain, for what? Revenge? What’s the  _ point _ ? That won’t change anything, it’ll just mean a crackdown. What would that fix?” 

“I…” Kell slumps. “He wouldn’t want this,” she whispers. 

“Can I have the detonator, please?” I ask. Slowly, hesitantly, she holds it and the phaser out. I take them, then quickly detach the phaser’s power cell. 

“Thank you,” I tell her. Kell folds over her own knees, mind a storm. I stand, flipping the safety cap back on the detonator’s button, swaying unsteadily with sheer relief as my mother scrambles to her feet and hurries up behind me. “It’s going to be… we’ll… we’ll find a way to deal with this. Somehow.” 

“A touching demonstration,” says Kree-Sanat with an odd tone. I turn; the Intel agent trots around the corner from one of the corridors, phaser out. “I’ll take the detonator, please.” 

I hold it out—but something makes me pause. “Wait. Where’s the backup?” 

“I told them that Kell would kill you and the Joined if they moved in,” the agent replies, and grabs the detonator. I try to keep hold, but she backhands me with her phaser hand, and I see stars, my grip relaxing by sheer reflex, and I stumble back, collapsing into my mother’s arms as  _ hahr  _ cries out in shock. “Thanks for delivering the detonator to me. Rather dramatic, isn’t it?” 

“Wha…” I wheeze, holding a hand to my nose. It’s bleeding, green fluid, my blood, dripping out onto my fingers, feels broken. “You’re… not Intel!” It comes out more like “U nah Indel”, but she seems to get my meaning. 

“No, merely posing as one of your spies. I would’ve left the job to Ms. Perim, but I wasn’t certain of her reliability, a suspicion that seems to have panned out, and this way’s more theatrical anyway. I like the dramatic irony of this—we’re quite weak for such stories, the Trill brought to ruin by one of their own. A fitting payment for the Mother-Hive, on what you call Paria III, don’t you think?” 

“Oh,  _ Sef _ ,” I manage. “You’re a  _ Bluegill _ !” 

Kree-Sanat gives a little bow, backing up with detonator in hand. “Well deduced, dense as you are. There aren’t many of us left, you know. Your filthy Federation killed most of our brood-mothers. I’ve been operating independent of the cleansing song of one for over two years now.” 

“You were working with the Iconians to destroy us!  _ And _ you tried to take over the Federation in the 2360s!” 

“You bombed our breeding world!” the bluegill inside Kree-Sanat snarls. I don’t think it’s a good time to point out that it was their own damn fault for organizing continued military efforts from that planet and refusing multiple offers of surrender negotiations in the aftermath of Gaul’s crusade and the Iconian invasion. “But then, I expect nothing less than rank hypocrisy from this planet. Your  _ mak’ahrai _ may have buried their memories of us deliberately, but we have not forgotten. And in the millennia since our flight, we have grown… developed…  _ evolved _ . The Iconians’ gifts didn’t hurt, either.” 

“But you don’t have to do this!” I protest. “You can stop! We only want peace and harmony between all species!” Something tickles the edge of my empathic senses, but I’m too distracted to pay attention. 

“Peace?” The bluegill scoffs. “There can only be peaceful co-existence when our rights as a superior form of life are recognized and respected.  _ That _ is the peaceful co-existence that  _ we _ seek, Federation. Besides! Look how much more harm the illusion of equality does! Look at Kell here, crying because a primitive  _ mak’ahras _ pretended that its Joining with her mate was somehow equal! We don’t bother with that rubbish, and we’re better off for it. This host knows its place. If I ever abandon it for a superior one, it will know that it could do nothing to stop my control of it. It is merely the natural state of…” 

There’s a faint rustle from the hallway. The Bluegill turns. 

A humanoid form emerges with lightning speed, and I gasp as I see  _ Rachel _ lunge, unnaturally quick, the Bluegill firing off-balance as Rachel ducks low, then powers up to barrel into the possessed woman like a battering ram. The phaser goes flying, the Bluegill in Kree-Sanat’s body cries out, and then Rachel pinches something on the back of her neck. Kree-Sanat stiffens, contorts, wailing in agony, the detonator dropping to the ground as Rachel quickly twists her arm, then my lover has her own phaser out with lightning speed and shoots her three times in the gut, heavy stun. The Kreetassian shudders, and goes limp, Rachel barely catching her with her phaser arm. 

“Sorry, Bev,” she mutters. “Babe, you OK?” 

“I’ll live,” I manage. “It’s a Bluegill, Rachel, she’s…” 

“Yeah, I heard the holonovel villain rant. Got your message on the way, by the way, I took some leave so I could come and help you out.” She pulls a knife from her hip. “Do you have a PADD?” 

“Um, not on me.” 

“Alright, we’ll do this later, then.” She re-sheathes the knife and pulls out a handheld communicator. “I’ll be right with you, OK? I just have to deal with the bug in my friend’s neck first. Major Otheel, this is Lieutenant Connor, hostile is down and the caves are secure. I have a Kreetassian female, late ‘30s, Bluegill in her neck. The bomb’s armed, but the detonator’s secure.” She pockets the thing as she says so, flipping the safety cap back on. 

“Wait, you know her?” is what my brain seizes on. 

She pulls the communicator away from her face. “Yeah, Academy buddies, and she was on Vega with me. Just a minute, OK, babe? I’ll set your nose for you. Major, I need a bomb squad in here, and a medic for surgery, and probably some counselors, now can you  _ get _ me those or do you want to bitch at me about my technique?” 

There’s a burst of noise from her communicator. “Get on it, then,” Rachel grunts, and sets it down, unzipping the Intel agent’s jacket to use as a makeshift hog-tie. “Everybody else OK? Any other injuries?” 

“We’re alive,” my mother says, pulling me close. “Careful, Eleana, that looks sensitive.” 

“ _ Ow _ !” I hiss as I prod my nose. “Ugh, think it’s broken.” 

“Yeah, don’t touch it, I’ll be right there.” Rachel ties off Kree-Sanat and pulls her pants down far enough to find a panel on her right thigh, as a police tactical team rushes into the chamber with Commander Riyannis right behind them in borrowed armor. “OK, where’s the servicing shutoff… ah!” There’s a faint hum, and Kree-Sanat’s legs go slack, the metal “toes” curling up. 

“Will she—”

“Once we get the parasite out of her spine, yeah.” Rachel stands, saluting my boss. “Commander.” 

“At ease, Lieutenant. Ensign, good work today—hey, get a medic over here, somebody!” 

“Here, babe,” Rachel says, coming up to gently cup my face. “I can re-set this for you, alright?” 

“Ugh, OK,” I reply, tilting my head back and breathing through my mouth. There’s a  _ lot _ of blood, more green than I’ve ever seen come out of me in my life. “How do I…” 

“It looks like a pretty simple break. I’ll push it back into position then we’ll get you to a sickbay ASAP, OK?” 

“Alright.” I steel myself. “OK, do it.” 

“On three.” Her hands, callused but gentle despite her unnatural strength, come up, one gripping my nose. “One. Two.” She jerks the organ back into place with a grinding sensation, and I jerk back with a yelp into my mother. 

“All done!” Rachel grins. “Where the fuck’s the medic already?” 

“We’re having another brought in, two minutes,” Commander Riyannis reports. “Gaunt’s Hosts,  _ look _ at this thing! That’s enough tritium to take out Leran Manev, and half the metro area to boot!” 

_ Swimmer’s tears _ . I nearly died today. I nearly died here with my Joined mother and a crazy terrorist and a bunch of symbiotes under thousands of tons of rock. I shudder, pulling away from my mother’s arms and slumping to my knees. 

“Eleana?” My mother’s voice, twin shocks of worry from her and Rachel. 

“Babe, babe, hey, hey, hey, it’s OK!” Rachel murmurs, reaching down to pull me up by the shoulders. “Look at me! What’s the matter, huh?” 

“I nearly died today,” I rasp. “I nearly died and nearly got so many people killed…” 

Rachel pulls me close, tugging my head down to her face so she can kiss my forehead. “Hey, hey, hey. You did good,” she growls in the rough alto only I normally get to hear from her, the sound reverberating deep in her chest. “You did good. So good. I’m so proud of you, baby.” 

“I nearly got the Caves blown up,” I whisper. 

“You talked down a mentally unstable domestic terrorist and  _ saved _ the Caves from being nuked,” she counters. “Any one you walk away from.” She pats me gently on the back, and I sag into her, just letting her support me. “You did good today. And with no investigative training, too? I’m impressed.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously,” she affirms. “You also probably just saved my friend’s life, thank you. I’m going to make sure they get the Bluegill out of her, I’m pretty sure she’ll be fine, though.” 

“I didn’t even realize she was one,” I confess. 

“Yeah, they’re tricky bastards. They understand us better than the Undine do, but they can’t mine memories for intel, so you can only really spot them if you know the host. Hey. You’ve got no training in diplomacy  _ or _ black-ops and you talked down a terrorist before she could nuke this joint.  _ Remember _ that. That’s all on  _ you _ . There’s nothing you can pawn that off on, no augmentation or mind-jacking tech or anything, that’s just you figuring it out, and that’s the kind of person you are.” 

“That sounds like something you say a lot,” I remark with a weak little smile. 

“Yeah, it’s something I have to remind myself of. ‘Cause I sometimes, you know, feel like I’m a big old fake. But I was Delta-rated before I was augmented, you know, I saved an Ambassador’s life during the Romulan collapse, helped fight the Klingons in the Arucanis arm and got half my ass shot off to show for it, I  _ earned _ everything I got out of that the hard way, and I can’t blame it on my fucked-up genome or anything like that. Helps when I’m feeling really shitty.” 

“Thank you. It… kind of does help, thinking of it that way.” Then a thought strikes me. “Hey, how’d you know where I was?” 

“Got a priority comm from Commander Riyannis and Admiral zh’Zoarhi on the way down. They said you were walking into the Caves of Mak’Kala with an enemy spy at your back. I got all they knew from zh’Zoarhi while I grabbed a phaser and got out of my heels and Commander Riyannis called the cops. Figured out the rest when not-Bev started ranting about superior species.” She pulls back. “You gonna be OK talking to your mom? I can be here for you if you like.” 

“No, it’s fine,” I assure her, squaring my shoulders. “I have to do this in private. Go check on your friend and make sure she’s alright?” 

“Sure thing. Hey, I’ve got a full week off seeing as my leave last year was doctor’s orders, want to go out to eat tonight?” 

“Maybe tomorrow. I think my parents will want you at the table at home tonight.” 

She grins, the plastic dentures almost but not quite mimicking the shine of real enamel. “That sounds great. Good luck with your mom, and call me if you need me, yeah?” 

“I will,” I promise as I wave her off. 

Time for the difficult part. 

“So,” I say in Standard Trill, my mother giving me an odd look. “Um. That happened.” 

_ Hahr _ pulls me into a hug. “Swimmer’s tears, Eleana,  _ don’t _ scare  _ zhas _ like that again!” 

“You… both?” is what comes out of my mouth. 

My mother pulls back, eyes glistening with tears. “Yes.  _ Jas _ haven’t been that terrified since  _ dezh  _ was William and  _ zher _ was negotiating peace between the moons of Peliar Zel. And that of  _ zhas _ that is Nilani is your  _ mother _ , of course  _ zhas _ was scared!” Something about the way  _ hahr _ says it, the emotions fluctuating against my senses…

I was wrong, I realize. My mother isn’t  _ gone _ , per se. Not all of her (inasmuch as that pronoun works for a host—damn English and its stupid conventions). She’s still there, and Odan’s there, and all that Odan used to be, merged and blended at a fundamental level so I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. But they’re both  _ there _ . I can see the parts that are each, even if there aren’t any clear lines. 

“It didn’t take you from me,” I choke out in English, the harsh consonants crackling on my tongue. “Not all of you. I’m an idiot.” 

“It’s alright,” my mother replies, also in English. “One of me-Odan’s previous lovers, Beverly, did not react well to William or Kareel, It is a risk.”  _ Hahr  _ squeezes my shoulders. “I… We…  _ curse _ this limited tongue! Nilani Odan should have expected—Sef, the  _ government _ should have expected that there would be problems. But neither of me blame you.” 

“I hurt you,” I sob, collapsing onto  _ hahr’a  _ chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should’ve been better…” 

“You aren’t the first to hurt Odan-me,”  _ hahr  _ murmurs, still in English, “and you won’t be the last. It’s what people do when we’re hurting, we lash out, we say things we regret later, we hurt each other. What matters is learning to cope, learning to forgive, to step back, take a deep breath, and help each other heal.”  _ Hahr  _ pats my back gently. “When your Rachel was kidnapped, did she lash out afterwards?” 

My breath hitches, remembering Rachel’s beautiful strong hands broken and bloody, splintered wood in the night, an anguished scream of ‘I’m just fucking  _ meat _ !’, an overwhelming surge of oppressive self-loathing that threatened to sweep me away like a tsunami. “Yeah,” I admit. “She did. Not at me, at herself.” 

“ _ Jas _ have seen that more times than  _ jas _ can count,”  _ hahr _ says in Trill. “ _ Zhas _ am just glad that we could be here for each other, so that you could have some support.” 

The unspoken part is  _ so you didn’t turn out like Kell Perim _ . 

I can’t find my words. Instead I just nod into  _ hahr _ , shuddering with another sob. 

“ _ Zhas _ still love you,” my mother promises. “And that will never change.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” I rasp. “You or Dad or Rachel.” 

“Nonsense. You just need a little help. Now, speaking of that nice young woman—has she proposed yet?” 

I really,  _ really _ love my mother for her (or  _ hin’a _ , but you know what,  _ fuck _ pronouns, all of them) ability to lighten the mood. And I’m pissed at her for putting me in this position. “Mom! We’ve only been dating for a year and she’s still recovering from… from the Shaw thing.” 

“Well, don’t let her get away! It’s not like she’s going to say no, the way she looks at you.” 

“ _ MOM! _ Really,  _ now _ ?” 

“What? It’s as plain as the spots down your sides!” 

“ _ Swimmer’s tears, Mom… _ ” But I’m half-laughing and half-sobbing, and my eyes overflow as I collapse onto my mother, because it  _ is _ my mother, this is Nilani Valen through and through, even worse timing than Aisha Connor and ten times as anxious, I can’t believe that Rachel thinks her mom is the most grandchild-hungry in the galaxy. I can’t believe I didn’t stop and make myself  _ listen _ before. 

I let myself break, and she catches me. 

And fuck the pronouns. This is my  _ mother _ . This goes beyond words. And I was too blind and scared to see it. 

“It’s alright, sweetie,” my mother promises as I sob incoherently onto  _ hahr  _ again,  _ hahr’a _ own voice cracking as she hugs me. “ _ Zhei _ forgive you.  _ Jas _ forgive you. Whatever permutation you can think of, I forgive you.” 

***

_ Curzon Dax Memorial Hospital, Leran Manev, Trillius Prime. April 10th, 2412 _ . 

“Hey, thanks for being here, babe,” Rachel says in the lift. “I know it’s kinda weird, since you never actually  _ met _ her…” 

“It’s fine,” I assure her. “Honestly, I feel kind of responsible for not noticing that she was a Bluegill.” 

“Happens to the best of us.” The doors open, and Rachel flashes her ID to the guards standing outside the second door on the hall—a MACO fireteam and two officers from the Federal Police. “Lieutenant Rachel Connor, here to see Commander Kree-Sanat.” 

“Go on in,” says one of the big Bolians standing guard. “Hey, congratulations on bagging Kerim Morag last month, sir.” 

“Wasn’t me who got the kill, Ensign Huang’s the one who took him out before he could kill my marksman. But thanks, Ensign.” 

The Kreetassian’s ditched the sunglasses, and looks up from a PADD she’s watching something on as we enter. Her face splits into an easy grin, the eyes sparkling as she pulls out her earbuds, and I feel a wave of glee come off of her, fierce and vibrant. Her mind’s a compartmentalized thing, but so much brighter and more  _ alive _ than the Bluegill’s deadened cold cloud that I briefly wonder how the heck I didn’t figure it out sooner. “Rachel Connor, you thickheaded old jackass! You saved my behind again!” 

“Just doing my job, you ugly bitch,” my girlfriend replies with a grin, reaching down to pull the Kreetassian into a hug. “How the hell did  _ you _ get yourself bluegilled?” 

“Searching an abandoned Vaadwaur gear cache from Gaul’s crusade for anything other than junk that’d been left there. I think the little fucker hid in my kit, must’ve got me while I was asleep back on the ship, just a stupid oversight.” Rachel pulls back, and the Intel agent nods to me. “Ensign Valen. Sorry about what that parasite had you doing. I don’t remember anything but vague impressions, but I got the gist of it from zh’Zoarhi over encrypted squirt.” 

“It wasn’t you, no need to apologize,” I demur. 

“Still, I kinda feel guilty. That thing nearly got you killed, and used  _ my _ contacts and job in Intel to stonewall your boss, Commander Riyannis, when she tried to figure out what was going on.” She sets the PADD aside, and I see a news feed on it. “You doing alright?” 

“I’m… better. My mother and I are still adjusting, but a lot better than we were, we went hiking in the mountains together the other day and it was...it was nice. I think  _ hahr _ suppressed the part that’s Odan a bit, but I don’t think I’m a good judge of that, honestly. How are you?” 

“Oh, bored out of my  _ mind _ here. I binged the entire  _ Star Wars _ series—it’s true what they say, Episodes 19 through 21 really did make it good again. Not as good as the Ferengi version, though. Can’t wait to get back to work.” 

“You had a parasite attached to your brain stem!” Rachel objects. “C’mon, Bev,  _ I’m _ supposed to be the idiot with no sense of self-preservation here!” 

“Hey, I can walk, I can work! It’s not like I’ll be taking out Tzenkethi commandos or Cardassian terrorist warlords, I’m mostly a fixer for zh’Zoarhi these days. Besides, I need to get out of this place, the sooner, the better.” 

“Commander, you will stay in that bed until you are cleared for duty by the attending physician, or I’ll kick you down to Ensign myself,” snaps a cold, hard voice to match the cold, hard mind that enters the room behind us. Kree-Sanat gulps and salutes, and Rachel and I turn to see a flinty-eyed Andorian with a short, neat haircut and a black-stripe Intel uniform, taller and slimmer than Captain Phohl with two bordered solid-gold pips on her neckline. We both salute, a spark of inner rage alighting deep within Rachel, but the Admiral waves us down. “As you were.” 

“Admiral zh’Zoarhi, sir, we’ll clear the room—” Rachel begins, but zh’Zoarhi’s already shaking her head. 

“Actually, I need to speak to Ensign Valen, too.” She turns to me, and salutes, which I have just enough presence of mind to return. “Eleana Valen, with no lawful orders or preparation, you successfully foiled a terrorist attack on a cultural treasure of the Trill people and the core population of a sapient species, and helped reveal an enemy spy who was impersonating one of my top operatives. As such, it is my pleasure to inform you that I have recommended you for the Christopher Pike Medal of Valor, to be upgraded to the Medal of Honor if the details of this clusterfrak ever get declassified. Good work.” 

I accept her firm handshake, awash in my own confusion. “The… all I did was talk Kell down, the Bluegill had me fooled!” 

“Talking down a terrorist who was about to use a thermonuclear fusion weapon on the Caves of Mak’Kala and keeping a Bluegill spy talking long enough for the Lieutenant here to incapacitate it? That’s above and beyond, Ensign. Congratulations, you’re a hero.” 

“I… thank you, sir.” 

“C’mere, babe,” Rachel growls, pulling me into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you!” 

“Given the circumstances, you will need to attend an interview with Internal Affairs when you return to duty, but I’ve already told Admiral al-Hariri that you’re not in any way under suspicion.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess?”

“Dismissed. Commander, I’ll need you to attend a debrief on your last official mission,” the Admiral says in the background as Rachel leads me outside. 

“The… the frelling  _ Pike? _ ” I’m still in shock. “I… For… I’m a  _ biologist! _ ” I squeak.

Rachel hugs me to her one-armed and kisses my cheek. “You’re  _ Starfleet _ , girlfriend. You did good first time out—I better up my fucking game or I’ll be out of a job!”

I turn my head and waggle my finger in her face threateningly. “ _ No. _ Just, _ no _ . I am  _ not _ applying for MACO training.”

“Aw, really? I think you’d look really cute with a shark on your shoulder,” she teases me.

“Remember that sex we were planning to have, ever again?” I reply, completely failing to keep a straight face.

She laughs and stretches up to kiss me, on the lips this time, deep and warm. When we break away, she tugs me towards the turbolift. “C’mon, babe, there’s a tranya martini at the bar around the corner with your name on it. I’m buying.”

“Lieutenant Connor, a word?” 

Rachel freezes as my hand stops on the lift button. Zh’Zoarhi’s followed us. “Admiral?” 

“I wanted to congratulate you again for your work last month in Cardassian space.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Furthermore”—she primly clasps her hands behind her back—“I am aware of your  _ condition _ , and I want you to know that Starfleet has your back, and more specifically,  _ I _ have your back, if you should choose to sue for your rights.” 

“I’d rather not have this talk in public,  _ sir _ ,” Rachel bites out, and there’s more hostility there than just her nerves. “And I trust  _ Starfleet  _ plenty, sir.” The emphasis is biting, and I squeeze her hand as a mix of violent emotions surge up in her. 

Zh’Zoarhi eyes her with a carefully neutral expression. “You don’t like me, Lieutenant.” 

“You implicitly ordered me to kill a traumatized refugee with years of combat experience if he fucked up.  _ Sir _ .” 

“No, Lieutenant, I ordered you to arrest or kill a  _ purported _ refugee if and only if you determined he was not what he appeared to be. I’m Deputy SI Chief for Counterintelligence—it is my  _ job _ to plug leaks by any means necessary, and Ensign Huang was a potential leak. Either way, I am not your enemy.” 

“I’ve got plenty of enemies, sir.” 

“ _ Rachel _ ,” I warn her.  _ Don’t piss off the Admiral, please… _

“Yes, most of whom are now dead or in custody. Both, in one case. That kind of effectiveness is useful, Lieutenant, and I want to see more of it.” 

Rachel sneers, and I haven’t felt her this angry since she found out Huang’s a Terran and ran off to read multiple Admirals the riot act. “You mean you want more of  _ me _ . Where have I heard that before?” 

The admiral scoffs. “I’m not suggesting strapping you to a biobed and testing you until we can copy you. I simply believe that… certain outdated legislation could do with a tune-up. And getting you your rights is a key component of that goal.” 

Rachel snorts at that. “I’ll make my decision when I’m good and ready, sir. For now, I have a tour of duty to complete, and the Zenks are trying to fuck around on our clockwise flank. So I’m afraid I don’t have time for political hobby-horses. Have a nice day, Admiral.” 

She salutes crisply, then turns and stabs at the lift button. I salute the Admiral with an apologetic grimace, and squeeze Rachel’s free hand. She’s boiling with rage, but turns her head to look at me as zh’Zoarhi returns the salute.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one who was having the hard time this week,” I tell her with a quirk of my eyebrow. The turbolift arrives, the doors opening. 

Rachel huffs out a chuckle as we step in. “Sorry, hon. I’m still a contrary bitch. And she ordered me to kill my… protege, I guess.” She’s simmering with something I can’t quite place for Huang. It’s not quite like her love for me, but she would burn the galaxy down for that young man. 

It’s actually kind of beautiful. 

“Good thing I love you anyway,” I reply, and I hit the button for the ground floor. 

I still have a few days of leave left, let’s make the most of it. 

***

_ Teal’c Municipal Shuttleport. April 14th, 2412.  _

“Alright,” my father says, dusting off his hands as he and Rachel dump our bags in the shuttle. “You two have a good flight back to your ship. And for Fire’s sake, watch yourselves out there on the frontier; I fought the damn Zenks once or twice in the war, they’re tough customers.” 

“We’ll be fine,” I promise him. “This crap the Autarch’s been spewing about ‘retribution’, it’s probably just to shore up his position after Rachel and her trainee humiliated and killed his best commando.” 

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Rachel promises. I shoot her a look; she sounds awfully serious. But the one I get back is accompanied by a minute shake of her head. Must be something she’s been briefed on that I missed. “Thanks for your hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. Valen.” 

My mother doesn’t object to Rachel using the host name, for some reason. My father chuckles and pulls her into a hug. “You’re welcome anytime. Come back and I’ll show you the fishing hole in the mountains I told you about, great little spot.” 

“Oh, you did  _ not _ !” my mother and I say as one. 

“What?” Rachel asks in confusion. “What’s the matter?” 

“His favorite lake  _ has no fish _ !” my mother complains. 

“That’s the  _ point _ !” my father objects. “Why ruin a perfectly good day of fishing by catching fish?” 

My mother and I look at each other, and roll our eyes. Rachel chuckles nervously. 

“I’ll, uh, be on the shuttle. Take you up on that offer next time, sir.” 

“I’ll hold you to that, Lieutenant. Nilani, I’ll be in the car.” 

“I’ll be right there.” And I’m alone with my mother. 

“So…” I manage after a moment. “I’m sorry. For being a rude jackass and not being there when you needed me.” 

“It’s alright,” my mother promises. “ _ Zhas _ have you back. Odan has… well. This isn’t the first time,  _ zhas _ believe you know.” 

“Yeah. You mentioned something about Odan being hurt before.” 

“Yes.” _Hahr_ strokes a loose lock of my hair behind my ear with a wistful smile. “ _Jas_ have lost friends and lovers before. Never a child, though. And you were not truly lost.” And this is Odan talking now, the ancient being that now… shares a body and mind with my mother. It’s never _not_ going to be weird. But I could _feel_ the shift. I can feel who’s talking, feel who’s where and in what proportion. “Thank you for coming back to _zhas_. _Jas_ may have been able to endure, but _zhei_ would have been devastated. _Zhei_ **was** devastated.” 

“I’m sorry,” I choke out, then clear my throat. “I’m so, so, sorry, Mom. I should’ve been more aware, more tolerant.” 

“You are now, and that’s all that matters,” says my mother. And  _ hahr _ hugs me tight. I hug  _ hahr _ back, and we stand there, just clinging to each other, for a good half a minute before we’re steady enough on our legs to pull back. 

“I’ll call as soon as we get back,” I promise. 

“Good.” And then I feel something bubble up, and a glint appears in my mother’s eyes. “And we’re going to want a video to show your aunts and uncles when you propose to that young lady. Be quick about it, too, you don’t want to wake up one day and find out she’s off the…” 

“MOM!  _ SWIMMER’S TEARS! _ ” 

But my aggrieved groan isn’t too serious, and my tears are of joy. 

FIN


End file.
